


The Seijoh Stabbings

by huhu_lene_gz



Series: Haikyuu Case Files [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Police, Serial Killer, side!YahabaxKyoutani
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:48:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21576325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huhu_lene_gz/pseuds/huhu_lene_gz
Summary: Captain Iwaizumi Hajime juggles a slew of cases, a rowdy department and a crush. His life can never be better. What happens when it is the people close to him who get targeted instead?This is in NO WAY an accurate representation of police investigation irl.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kindaichi Yuutarou/Kunimi Akira
Series: Haikyuu Case Files [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554961
Comments: 17
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

What is love? 

It is an unexplainable concept. It is, perhaps, nothing more than a human construct. It exists because humans think it does, and communities perpetuate this myth. About love.

Some say it makes us weak. We cannot help but surrender ourselves to them. To someone whom we love with all our heart, which is no longer our own. We constantly think about them. We are nothing more than slaves to our emotions.

Some say it makes us strong. For the person we love, we would do anything for them. We would fight, even if it breaks every single bone in our body, even if it would tear our skin and spill our blood, we would fight and be destroyed in the process.

From a biological standpoint, love may be nothing more than what drives sexual desire. It is feeling we reach for to encourage us to have sex, to continue our population through copulation. It has been developed and become something sophisticated for our survival. On the contrary, it may also be an evolutionary abomination, for we may refuse to interbreed before we find love. 

What would one do for love? 

What about you? 

Would you kill in the name of love?


	2. Chapter 1

Iwaizumi yawns. He’s not having a very good time right now. Not when Oikawa is giggling at some sports manga on his bed while he’s trying to get some paperwork done. Yes, Iwaizumi brings paperwork home to finish. What a good officer he is. 

“Look at this, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa grins. “Looks like you!” 

“Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi says, barely lifting his head. “If you don’t shut up in the next five seconds I’m throwing you out the window.”

“Iwa-chan’s so mean!” Oikawa pouts. He goes back to reading, but quieter this time, giving Iwaizumi half the peace he so desperately wished for. 

It is around 1am, when the moon hangs high over the night sky, when Iwaizumi decides that it is time to sleep. He shoves the stack of papers into a folder and shoves it into his bag. He glances at his bed before trudging to the toilet, stifling a yawn. Looks like he’s going to be sleeping on the futon tonight. He hopes Oikawa at least makes him coffee to make up for taking the bed. 

*

Oikawa makes him coffee, though there was no sign of him when Iwaizumi woke up to the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee. He rubs at his eyes sleepily as the sun shines into the room, and when he glances at the clock, that is when he knows that he is screwed. On many levels.

Iwaizumi brushes his teeth, washes his face, changes into his uniform and dashes out of his house faster than you can say “Shittykawa”. He runs at least three red lights but still ended up half an hour late to the station. 

When he arrives, it is Matsukawa, the Vice-Captain, who chews him out because Iwaizumi  _ is _ the Captain. Iwaizumi sits through a whole spiel on how he holds much responsibility and how everyone in the department looks up to him and yada yada yada. He does not miss Yahaba’s snicker nor Hanamaki’s shit-eating grin shot his way when he emerges from Matsukawa’s office and takes three steps into his own, pushing the glass door open with more force than necessary.

He finishes up whatever remaining paperwork he has to. By then, it was nearly ten. He leaves the office to meet Oikawa for lunch. 

Oikawa works as a volleyball coach for Aoba Johsai High (and a few other schools), the school not far from the police department - a distance covered with a five-minute brisk walk, so it wasn’t difficult for him to meet up with him for lunch every now and then. This, however, doesn’t hold true when Iwaizumi is going to be on a big case.

“And so Hanamaki swindled five hundred yen from me!” Iwaizumi sighs, sipping at his Americano. “I bet he teamed up with Matsukawa on that one.”

“You’ve been talking about Hanamaki-san a lot these couple of days,” Oikawa observes, biting into his burger. 

“Because I was thrown into a case with him recently,” Iwaizumi says, remembering the case that he was filing paperwork for. It was the death of his landlord, a man named Irihata Nobuteru. He hadn’t liked the guy very much (read: Iwaizumi wanted to punch him more than once), but still his death came as a shock. The perpetrator of the crime had been a Watari Shinji, who lived a few apartments over from Iwaizumi’s. Irrefutable evidence had placed him at the scene. The only thing that plagued Iwaizumi was his vehement refusal to admit to his crimes despite the mountain of evidence against him. Not only that, his motive was never made clear.

“Oh,” Oikawa says, offering him a smile. “Well, glad that you’re getting along well with your fellow officers.”

“Well, I got yelled at by Matsukawa in the morning. I thought I’d really done it this time, but turns out it was a total scam. ‘No one ever gets to scold the Captain besides me’,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “What’s up with that?”

“He wants to dominate you, obviously,” Oikawa grins cheekily. 

“More like he just wanted to feel important,” Iwaizumi mutters. “Plus he’s got a thing for Hanamaki, so I’m not gonna get in the way of that.”

“Wow, Iwa-chan so thoughtful!” Oikawa says, smiling in his usual cocky way. “So what’s this...Matsukawa and Hanamaki crush thing? Does Matsukawa-san have a crush on Hanamaki-san or what?”

“Oh,” Iwaizumi grins evilly. “Let me tell you all about it.”

*

“You’re working on that new case?” Iwaizumi says pointedly, standing by Hanamaki’s desk while the latter is attempting to build a house of cards. Unfortunately, all Iwaizumi has to do is to place his hand on the desk, give it a little shake and suffer a glare from Hanamaki Takahiro as the cards come tumbling down.

“I was gonna Instagram that,” Hanamaki says, puffing his cheeks out. “Now I’ve got to do it all over again.”

“No you aren’t. You’re going to get started on the investigation for the new case,” Iwaizumi says. “Dude got stabbed in a flower shop. That one.”

“Oh, that? Easy,” Hanamaki says. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. Hanamaki may goof off most of the time, but he is far from unproductive. It is as if he has a special gift for deduction. “The knife was hidden in the bouquet - that explains the pollen on the blade - and the guy was wearing gloves, which was found stupidly discarded in the trash bin outside, by the way. It had the same kind of pollen on it. The murderer was this guy who patronised the flower shop that day. A tourist from the Nekoma region - Nobuyuki Kai. He’s pending trial.”

“That’s fast,” Iwaizumi says, impressed. Then, he furrows his brow. “Wait, Nobuyuki Kai?”

“Yeah,” Hanamaki says. “What of it?”

“He was my...roommate,” Iwaizumi says. “In college. Back when I was studying in Nekoma. I was still corresponding with him just the other day.”

Hanamaki pauses, as if trying to digest the information. “Well then...uh…would you like to speak to him? Not as an officer. Just like a...friend.” Hanamaki tries to place a Joker carefully atop two red-backed cards. 

“I would,” Iwaizumi says, sighing. Lord, what is the world  _ coming to _ ? “But he’s a tourist, isn’t he? What reason would he have to kill that guy? And the knife was concealed in the bouquet…? Doesn’t that mean that it was premediated murder?” 

Hanamaki doesn’t take his eyes off his new card tower. “You’re right. He has no clear motive, but the circumstantial evidence is pretty solid.”

“But circumstantial evidence isn’t enough to convict someone,” Iwaizumi says, furrowing his brow. “Look, just get all these kinks straightened out and I’ll give you a day off. How does that sound?” 

“Sounds gr-”

“Are we discussing kinks right now?” 

Matsukawa saunters into the office in his sweat-soaked collared shirt, beige coat hanging on his arm. He grins lazily. “Go on, Iwaizumi. Don’t let me stop you.” Yahaba sniggers. Kunimi mumbles something about how fortunate it is for them that the pure, innocent Kindaichi is away at the moment.

Iwaizumi slaps his forehead, absolutely refusing to meet the mischievous and devilish grins the two of them are probably wearing right now. He doesn’t know which one is worse. Oikawa, or the Matsuhana duo.

*

When Iwaizumi returns, he finds his door unlocked - of course it is - and he pushes it open to find Oikawa lazing about on his couch, a comic book in hand, dressed in fluffy, pink pyjamas with cartoon rockets on them and the words “NASA” on the back in a childish scrawl.

“What are you doing?” 

“Reading manga.”

“I can see that. Why are you even here? Don’t you have your own apartment?” Iwaizumi sighs. Not that he is complaining in the slightest. Any time spent with Oikawa is good time spent. That, or Iwaizumi’s massive crush on his best friend is speaking again. 

Oikawa stares at him with watery puppy eyes. “Does Iwa-chan not want me here?”

“Good Lord,” Iwaizumi sighs louder than ever. He makes it extra long, emphasising his exasperation. He’s not sure Oikawa got the hint. “Fine, fine. You can roll out that extra futon. You took my bed the last time.”

“Aw, I knew Iwa-chan loves me,” Oikawa grins. He looks almost like a child whose parents told him he could have some candy. “Let’s watch movies. You get to pick this time.”

Watching movies doesn’t sound like a bad idea. At least, if Iwaizumi has the energy for it that is. His brain hurt, his eyes are about to close and...Lord, skipping dinner doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Or maybe not,” Oikawa says, squinting at Iwaizumi’s yawning face and tired eyes. “Have you eaten dinner, Iwa-chan?”

“Nah,” Iwaizumi says, rubbing at his eyes. He proceeds to lock himself in the bathroom, peel off his clothes, turn on the shower, and let the warm water spray his bare skin. A hot shower after a long day of hard work is a reward of the highest caliber, in Iwaizumi’s book. 

When he emerges from the shower, the lights are already switched off, and Oikawa has already made himself at home in the futon beside Iwaizumi’s bed, out like a light. A cup of steaming instant ramen rests on the table, the cover held down by chopsticks. Huh. Looks like Oikawa can be nice once in a while.

Iwaizumi slurps the noodles and soup noisily. It’s almost a typical day for him, surviving on instant noodles and instant coffee and instant sleep. Oh, unless Oikawa decides to roll off the bed and hug Iwaizumi like a stuffed teddy bear (not that Iwaizumi is complaining). 

When he finishes the meal and heads into the room, Iwaizumi is asleep even before his head hit the pillow.


	3. Chapter 2

“Any updates on that murder case?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Yeah,” Hanamaki says. He is leaning against the backrest of his chair, slurping an iced matcha latte. At eight in the morning. He must have an iron stomach. Or maybe it’s just Iwaizumi. “Turns out the knife in the bouquet belonged to the flower shop guy, so the tourist dude was just attacking in self-defense.” 

“Did they know each other?”

“Apparently,” Hanamaki says, “not. No motive. The tourist dude didn’t know why he got attacked, either. Didn’t see that guy ever before in his life.”

“And we’re building a case...without ever finding a motive. And without a confession. The guy’s going to stand trial in...what? Three days?”

“Yeah,” Hanamaki says. “Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something.”

“You’d better,” Iwaizumi says. “I’m free today, so I’m gonna go visit him.”

“Do you wanna listen in on the interrogation instead?” Hanamaki asks. “You know, I’ll be speaking to him, and you can watch from the outside.” He noisily slurps up the last of his latte and hurls the cup into the trash bin. 

Iwaizumi considers it. “Sounds good.”

“Great,” Hanamaki says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go then. It’s in five minutes.”

*

Iwaizumi has never liked the interrogation rooms. Too grey. Too cold and depressing. He and Hanamaki stride down the cream-walled corridors, accompanied by two other policemen, black shoes clacking against the tiled floor. They come to Interrogation Room 3, near the end of the corridor. 

“Right, so, you just stay outside,” Hanamaki says. 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “I know.”

Hanamaki disappears into the room with a grin on his face.

Iwaizumi watches through the one-way mirror. Could he believe that the kind, quiet roommate who had been there for him throughout his three years in university had killed someone? Even if it is in self-defense?

“Okay,” Hanamaki says, settling himself in front of the suspect. Dark-skinned, hair in a buzz-cut, that’s Kai, alright. He sits, shoulders slumped, dressed in prison garb. Iwaizumi’s heart clenches. Hanamaki taps a button on a tape recorder. “Right, so, this is Hanamaki Takahiro of Department 14. We’re commencing the interrogation with the suspect of the SJ-9 case.” - pause - “What’s your name and profession?”

“Nobuyuki Kai. Professor at Nekoma Legal Academy.”

“Alright then, Nobuyuki-san. You had visited Bouquet Boutique, the flower shop down Waraha Street just two days ago?”

“Yes...that I did.”

“What for?”

“I...I can’t tell you anymore than I already have, officer,” Kai says. He drags a hand across his face. 

“Just answer the question, Nobuyuki-san.”

It seems to be an eternity before Kai answers. Iwaizumi’s jaw tics. It is torture to watch your roommate and close friend for three years through university receive such unfair treatment. Seriously, who would believe that Nobuyuki Kai had murdered someone? 

“I went there because I was called out to by the flower shop boy,” Kai says. “I was on my way to pay a surprise visit to my friend from college.”

“Your friend from college? Who might that be?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime. He’s a police officer here. I think you might know him.”

So Kai had been on his way to...visit him? He should have called or something. Well, it would defeat the purpose of a surprise visit but…

“Yeah, I do,” Hanamaki says. “Enough about Iwaizumi-san. Now, you said the flower boy called out to you?” 

“Yes.”

“Do you know what for?”

“He called me by my full name. But I didn’t know the guy,” Kai says. 

“Describe him.”

“I don’t see the point, officer. Don’t you already know how he looks like?” 

Hanamaki looks unperturbed. “Well, I think I’m on to something here, and if what my hunch tells me is right, then you can walk scot-free.”

“Well.” The thought definitely tempts Kai. He ponders Hanamaki’s words for a moment there, then says, “The man was youthful, probably my age. He looks like those kinds of pretty boys, but with a mask on his face.”

“What kind of mask? And you’ve got to be a little more specific than ‘he looks like a pretty boy’.”

“Like those kinds of face masks. It was a character mask - like Brown from LINE,” Kai says. “Naturally, when he called me by name, I was intrigued, so I went over to ask him about it. Whether he was an old classmate or someone that I’ve kind of forgotten.” 

“What a shame,” Hanamaki says, a hint of jest in his tone. “We all have people like that. Names and faces we don’t remember, but people who remember us. What else did he look like?”

“Brown hair. Natural, I think. Didn’t look dyed. And spectacles. I think they were black, with rectangular lenses.”

“Black glasses huh,” Hanamaki nods. “Is that all? Wore anything distinctive?”

“Uh...the flower shop’s apron and uniform, I guess?” Kai says slowly. “It was like, this pink apron with this...yellow flower or something. And...uh…” He scratches his head, “he was...uh...wearing this blue, checked shirt.”

  
“Blue checked shirt, huh?” Hanamaki grins. “What happened next, Nobuyuki-san?”

  
“He...He suggested I give this bouquet to my girlfriend - who is all the way back in Nekoma City, by the way - but then when I was about to reject his offer, he whipped out a knife and tried to stab me!”

  
“He tried to stab you? What did you do then?”

“I threw up my arms to defend myself. He managed to get me across the arm.”

“You got a wound? Can I see it?”

Kai holds up his arm. A large area on his forearm is bandaged tightly. Having seen proof, Hanamaki nods and describes the wound to the recording. He then proceeds to ask, “So, you snatched the knife from him?”

“No, definitely not,” Kai says, shaking his head. “The next thing I knew, I was knocked across the jaw. I didn’t even have time to scream and I blacked out.”

“So that’s your story, huh?” Hanamaki says, leaning back against his chair. “The cute flower shop guy knocked you unconscious and stashed you somewhere, then pulled you out when he needed you.” Hanamaki stops the recording. 

“Huh?”

“No, never mind,” Hanamaki says. “Well, all I can tell you now is that with my awesome detective skills, you’ll probably be off the hook in a matter of days. Enjoy your time in prison while it still lasts.” He removes the tape from the recorder and saunters out of the room. “Ciao!”

He emerges from the interrogation room, having pocketed the tape. “Good news, Captain. The killer isn’t Kai. That is, if we can trust his words.”

“In what way?”

They begin the short walk back to the offices. Hanamaki wears a relaxed smile the whole way he tells Iwaizumi the revelation he just had. For one, the flower shop’s uniform did consist of the pink apron, but it was accompanied with a white-and-blue  _ striped  _ shirt, not checked. Moreover, the victim was found wearing said uniform. 

“And we made sure to check the victim’s connections to Nobuyuki-san. None whatsoever. The victim couldn’t have possibly known Nobuyuki-san’s name, much less his full name.”

“I see,” Iwaizumi nods. “That’s good, but weird.”

“The only way this all makes sense is if the flower boy that called out to Nobuyuki-san was not the victim,” Hanamaki says. “It was someone else who had disguised themselves as the victim after killing them. Whoever they are, they must have wanted Nobuyuki-san dead. I’m guessing the victim’s just a random dude at the wrong place and the wrong time.” 

  
“But how would that person know that Kai would pass by that particular flower shop? Like you said, the murder must have been premediated, right?”

“Yeah,” Hanamaki nods. “He said that he was going to pay you a surprise visit, right?”

“Uh huh.”

They arrive at their office. Matsukawa, at that moment, strides in through the double doors. He shoots them one suspicious glance, then heads off towards his office without another word. Hanamaki and Iwaizumi’s conversation was cut short by Yahaba and Kyoutani’s arrival with convenience-store sushi for lunch. The department gathers around that round table that Matsukawa implemented to cultivate a close bond between the department or something.

Today, the ones that are present for lunch are Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, Yahaba, Kyoutani and Kunimi. Matsukawa is, for some reason, hiding out in his office - Iwaizumi figures it’s a case. Matsukawa does this whenever he’s very focussed on solving one - and Kindaichi is probably away carrying out some investigation. 

“Iwaizumi-san, not eating with boyfriend today?” Kunimi asks. The question is directed towards Iwaizumi, though Kunimi does not show any signs of teasing. Just plain curiosity. The whole table goes silent and Iwaizumi feels uncomfortable.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Iwaizumi settles for saying. Any more and he’d sound like he’s trying to defend himself. And the implication is loud and clear.

“No? You always with him,” Kunimi says. 

“Doesn’t mean we’re a couple. We are childhood friends.”

“That explains things,” Kunimi says, nodding, and goes back to eating. That’s the thing about Kunimi. He says and does no more than he needs to, so his way of speech is to use sentences which are grammatically incorrect. Iwaizumi isn’t complaining though because Kunimi still gets his job done well. 

“So, you have plans to get together with him or something?” Now it’s Yahaba’s turn, and Iwaizumi isn’t sure how to respond to that, because unlike Kunimi, Yahaba always seems to be trying to get at people. Either riling them up or gathering information. One could say he is the department’s resident blackmailer.

“What? No,” Iwaizumi says. Perhaps the words came a little too quickly, because Iwaizumi can suddenly feel the weight of everyone’s gazes on him. Curious, penetrating, disbelieving…He refuses to look up from his unagi sushi.

“You’re suited for each other,” Kunimi says. That was rather bold of him. Iwaizumi is beginning to think that he’s easily bullied. 

“And how would you know that?”

“You didn’t think Hanamaki-san wouldn’t set up a chat group for this?” Yahaba grins evilly.

Iwaizumi rounds on Hanamaki, a betrayed expression on his face as he throws his hands up in defense, speaking with a mouth full of squid. “Hey, hey, you guys totally” - he swallows - “look good together, okay? Who can blame me?”

  
“Well, what about you and Matsukawa, huh?” Iwaizumi jabs a finger at him, a devilish smirk on his face as Hanamaki’s face goes tomato red. Yahaba cheekily snaps a few shots as Hanamaki splutters incoherently. 

  
At that moment, the man of the hour walks out of his office, a stack of papers in his arms. He spares the table of screaming policemen a single glance - the gaze directed pointedly at Iwaizumi and Hanamaki - before heading out the door.

Iwaizumi notices - he’s the Captain after all - but isn’t sure what it is supposed to mean.

*

“You’re working late,” Iwaizumi says. The office is quiet. Everyone else has left for the night, save for Matsukawa and Iwaizumi. Matsukawa looks up from his computer - trying to finish typing up some documents for an upcoming trial.

“Yeah,” Matsukawa answers. Silence passes between them, punctuated by a series of fingernails on keys. “Uh...why’re you here, Cap? If this is about me yelling at you yesterday…”

“No, no, not that,” Iwaizumi says, waving his hand dismissively. “You had every right to. I was late. Anyway, I want to know why you’ve been so...out of it recently.”

“Out of it? I’m fine,” Matsukawa answers, eyes returning to his computer screen.

“No you’re not. And you’ve been staring at Hanamaki a lot more now.”

“No I’m not,” Matsukawa says immediately. 

“Yes you are,” Iwaizumi says. “What’s up with that?”

“It’s nothing,” Matsukawa says. Clearly, no amount of prompting is going to convince Matsukawa to divulge whatever is on his mind.

“Well, as long as it doesn’t get in the way of work, and your relationship with Hanamaki,” Iwaizumi says, shrugging, feigning nonchalance. “I’m leaving already. Bye.” 

Matsukawa waves him off, and Iwaizumi leaves the station.

Upon exiting, he finds a familiar figure standing with his back against the wall, earphones in his ears and phone in hand, dressed in a familiar blue-and-white jacket. He looks up and removes the earbuds when Iwaizumi walks over. 

“What are you doing here?”

“To see my Iwa-chan, of course. I was in the area, so I decided to just pay you a visit,” Oikawa says. 

“And how long have you been standing here?” Iwaizumi’s eyes flick to the moon high in the sky. Oikawa does not train his teams beyond eight at night, believing that sleep is essential for good play. Iwaizumi glances at his phone. It is nearly nine.

“Okay, fine you got me,” Oikawa grins. He holds up two tickets, scrunched up and crumpled from spending time in his pocket. “Guess what! We’re gonna go see Godzilla” King of the Monsters.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widens in glee. “No way.” He hadn’t had time to see that movie since it came out a couple of weeks ago. 

“Yes way,” Oikawa laughs, grabbing Iwaizumi’s hand and leading him towards the cinema.

*

Iwaizumi is beat when he reaches home, Oikawa in tow. It must be around midnight, and thankfully, he is off duty tomorrow. Saturday, his one day of peace and quiet. Minus Oikawa. Oikawa clamours into Iwaizumi’s bed as if he owns the place, still dressed in his sweat-stained Dri-Fit shirt and hoodie. 

“Lord,” Iwaizumi mutters. Oikawa is unconscious within seconds. Looks like it’s Iwaizumi’s turn on the futon again. 

Boyfriend, huh? 

The thought crosses Iwaizumi’s mind so suddenly that he cannot stop his face from turning red. Oikawa, his best friend of a total of twenty-six years - the number of years he’s been alive. Even before he knew how to crawl, he had known Oikawa, the most annoying, snivelling toddler that Iwaizumi has ever had the misfortune of knowing.

Misfortune? Or the opposite?

Iwaizumi covers his face with his hands, willing the blush to go away. 

It doesn’t work, of course. That night, he dreams of brown hair, large eyes and that high-pitched voice calling his name. Calling Iwa-chan. He only has himself and Kunimi to blame, after all.


	4. Chapter 3

When Iwaizumi wakes up the next morning, his shirt is wet. Wet, slimy…

“Ew!” Iwaizumi shrieks. The most manly shriek ever, mind you. He cannot even move, pinned down by Oikawa’s weight. The man is mainly muscle, from his many years of coaching volleyball and working out - including that weekly rock climbing thing he always goes to. Oikawa must have tumbled from the bed above, and is now snuggling into Iwaizumi’s chest, a hand under Iwaizumi’s shirt, palm flush on his breast.

“Geroff me, Trashkawa!” Iwaizumi hisses. With great effort, he manages to wrestle the sleeping Oikawa off him, the latter grunting incoherently with displeasure. Iwaizumi makes a beeline for his wardrobe, picking out a yellow polo tee and some trousers, dashing into the bathroom to change for the day.

When he emerges, Oikawa is sitting up on the futon, shaking away the remnants of sleep. He is partially undressed, his Aoba Johsai High jacket and black shirt on a pile on the bed. He looks up with half-closed eyes that turn big when he spots Iwaizumi’s appearance.

“Iwa-chan! It was so cold last night!”

“Cold? The only thing that’s cold was your drool, Trashkawa!” Iwaizumi snarls. “You drooled all over me!”

“Oh, did I?” Oikawa smiles sheepishly. It is a sort of angelic expression that Iwaizumi does not see often. Something carefully guarded beneath Oikawa’s cocky personality. A side of his best friend that only Iwaizumi is privy to.

It gives Iwaizumi a sense of pride. 

“In any case, don’t you have afternoon training with one of your schools today?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa mumbles. He yawns. “That’s at 3pm, though. I’m not gonna go so early. Come back to sleep with me, Iwa-chan.”

“No. I’m hungry. I’m gonna go prepare breakfast,” Iwaizumi says. “What do you want?”

“I don’t eat breakfast,” Oikawa says, standing up grudgingly with the futon’s comforter wrapped around his shoulders. “It makes me wanna throw up.”

“Well, at least get some coffee or something,” Iwaizumi says. “To perk you up a little.”

“Iwa-chan...make...for me,” Oikawa drapes himself against Iwaizumi, snuggling into the crook of his neck. Iwaizumi flushes at the intimacy. 

“Fine, fine. You spoiled child.”

While Iwaizumi has the whole day off, Oikawa doesn’t. After eating lunch with him at some Italian restaurant, Iwaizumi returns to his apartment, cradling his poor wallet. When he arrives at the void deck of his block of flats, he finds a familiar figure pacing around the row of mailboxes. 

Matsukawa, looking weird when in casual wear, notices his arrival immediately, a troubled expression on his face.

“Iwaizumi,” he says in greeting.

“Yo. What brings you to my humble abode?”

Matsukawa peers at him from behind his sunglasses. “Things. The first is work-related.”

“Can’t it wait till tomorrow?”

“Uh, ‘fraid not,” Matsukawa says, shrugging. “It’s just a message from Makki. Says that Nobuyuki Kai has been released. Not sure what that means, but something tells me that now you have no suspects.”

“Let me guess. You’re just playing messenger for him.”

“Yeah, kinda,” Matsukawa acknowledges. “It’s a by-the-way thing. Now, the real question. The really important thing.”

“Whatever can warrant such importance that you have to personally come to my house to ask?” A knowing grin spreads across Iwaizumi’s face. “Is it the thing from yesterday?”

“Well yes, it’s that,” Matsukawa nods. He stares at a spot in the distance. “Are you and Makki...a thing?”

“A...what?” Iwaizumi does not even try to stifle his laughter. “A thing? Are you…” He wheezes. “Are you  _ serious _ ?”

Matsukawa gives him an unimpressed but scathing look. “So you’re not?”

“No, what the fuck?” Iwaizumi has to grab his belly. “Me? And  _ Makki _ ? Of all people? Gross.” 

Matsukawa shrugs.

“Look, sorry man, but it was really funny,” Iwaizumi says, walking over and giving him a clap on the shoulder. “Makki’s single, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Great,” Matsukawa says, but he cannot help the satisfied smile spreading across his face. “Now you’ve made me feel dumb. You have to treat me to food.”

“Only if you ask Makki out.” 

“Hmm. It’s a deal.”

*

The next time Iwaizumi sees Hanamaki, he’s doodling tiny squirrels on a report. 

“I heard you released Kai,” Iwaizumi says. 

“Yeah,” Hanamaki says. The pen clatters onto the table. “I did. He’s not the killer - he was unconscious but had no blood on his hands when he was found - there was blood on the hilt of the knife, so he would have blood on his hands after stabbing the victim, and he wouldn’t have time to clean the blood. He was framed.” 

“Framed. By whom?”

“Who knows?” Hanamaki says. “We’re still trying to figure out. Right now, we’ve only got a vague description. Brown hair, pretty boy face covered by a Brown character mask - which was found in the dumpster behind the store by the way. Can barely piece together a face with that kind of information.”

“Huh,” Iwaizumi nods. “Keep it up, then. I have to go check something.”

“Check something?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says. “It’s about our last case. The one where Watari-san was arrested. I still have some...doubts.”

Hanamaki purses his lips, but says nothing more on the matter. Iwaizumi heads off towards the Detention Centre. 

*

Iwaizumi has never liked the feel of speaking with someone through a glass panel, a landline affixed onto the wall. The place is busy. A mother talking to a delinquent child, a husband arguing with his wife, two sisters conversing. 

At this moment, the Watari Shinji case is closed. Iwaizumi is nothing more than a visitor. A guard brings Watari in, the latter dressed in the blinding, orange prison garb. He certainly looks weathered, if the dark eye bags and the gaunt face is of any indication - much different from how he looked before he was arrested.

“What do you want?” There is no hint of formality. Simply hatred and repulsion. There is also a sense of guardedness that Watari is putting up. A form of self defense.

“I want to know why you did it,” Iwaizumi says. “No clear motive was provided during the trial.”

“Oh, so you finally decided to listen to me, huh?” Watari says, face hardening, voice bitter. “You officers finally decide that my word is worth hearing, right?” 

Iwaizumi grits his teeth and bites back his indignation. “Tell me why.”

“I don’t have a reason because I didn’t kill him!” Watari says fiercely. “I didn’t kill him! I didn’t fucking kill him!” He slams the table angrily, but jolts suddenly. He slumps back into his seat, completely defeated. The band on his wrist…it must have sent an electric shock through his system. They are used for keeping prisoners in order.

“You didn’t kill him, you say?” Iwaizumi says, clasping his hands in front of him. “You were the only one found there, at the alleyway.”

“I told you! I was following someone! And that someone just...disappeared, like a ghost!”

Iwaizumi recalls the bewildering circumstances. The body of his landlord had been found in a dark alleyway flanked by his block of flats and the neighbouring one. It was a dead end, blocked off by a collapsing, but otherwise nondescript, brick wall standing around 2.5meters. No one could have scaled that. 

Watari Shinji was the one who had phoned the police, but was arrested on the spot, because there was simply no one else who could have been the murderer. Yet, Watari had protested vehemently, all throughout questioning, that he had seen someone. It was too dark to tell, and Watari only saw his back, but he was much taller than him - at least a head taller. Iwaizumi places this mystery, imaginary man at around 180cm, if he ever existed.

The murder weapon, left at the scene, was a penknife, soaked in blood, with Watari’s fingerprints on it. According to Watari, he had accidentally picked it up in a daze after discovering the body. He didn’t know what he was doing. It was a likely story, after all. No murderer would admit to his crimes.

Still, the knife was all they needed to put Watari behind bars. In the end, it even looked like Watari’s attorney had given up. 

“Disappeared, huh? People can’t disappear like that,” Iwaizumi mumbles to himself. It is still unnatural, of course, with the lack of motive. If what Watari is saying is true...then that would mean that the real murderer is on the loose, and that Watari is paying for that murderer’s crimes.

  
“I know what you’re thinking. You think I made all of this up,” Watari says, resignation in his voice. 

It would be useless asking Watari to prove it. If he could, he wouldn’t be in jail. Iwaizumi stands. 

“I’m going to reopen the case,” Iwaizumi says. There’s something not right about it all. “I’m going to see whether we missed out on anything.”

He can see the faint glimmer of hope in Watari’s eyes. He adds quickly, “I’m still not sure if you’re the killer yet. Till then, you can pray for good news.” With that, he stands and this concludes the meeting.

*

The station is quiet when Iwaizumi returns. Too quiet. The only officer happens to be Yahaba, a grim expression on his face. Dread creeps up Iwaizumi’s spine. Yahaba raises his head as Iwaizumi approaches.

“Where’s everyone?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Kindaichi and Kunimi are out on a case. Kyoutani went to buy lunch for the both of us. Matsukawa-san and Hanamaki-san are in the hospital.”

“Hospital?” Iwaizumi stares at Yahaba as if he’s grown three heads.

“Yeah,” Yahaba says. “Hanamaki said you were conducting some investigation or something. We didn’t want to get in the way of your work so...we didn’t tell you.”

“What happened to him? Or them?”

“Matsukawa-san got stabbed,” Yahaba says gravely. “Hanamaki-san went to the hospital to check up on him. He was found bleeding out in the toilet of a department store.” 

“A department store?”

“Yasaishimaya Departmental store,” Yahaba says. “That’s what we were told.”

“I...have to go,” Iwaizumi says. “Hold the fort while we’re away.”

“Yeah, sure,” Yahaba nods, swallowing thickly. “Tell Matsukawa-san that he’d better apologise for scaring us.”

Iwaizumi is out the door and pounding the pavement before he knows it.

*

Matsukawa is good at hand-to-hand combat. It is his specialty, in fact, even with those lanky limbs, unlike Iwaizumi and Hanamaki who specialise in handguns. No one can beat Matsukawa in a fight.

So why? 

Why is Matsukawa lying in a hospital bed, being treated for a stab wound? 

Who the hell did he lose to? 

  
“Hi, I’m here to...see a patient called Matsukawa Issei...he must have just...checked in,” Iwaizumi pants, grabbing his knees, gritting his teeth at the sourness in his thighs. Damn the lactic acid. 

Iwaizumi obtains the ward number from the nurse and rushes off, sidestepping the medical personnel while apologising unceasingly. He manages to barrel his way into a full elevator through a small gap between the doors. Those were the longest few seconds that he has ever waited in his entire life.

When the doors finally open to Iwaizumi’s level and air floods the tiny car once again, Iwaizumi dashes out into the corridor. 03-02...03-02…there! Iwaizumi twists the doorknob and shoves it open. He gasps for breath as he surveys the room. 

The only person in the room other than Matsukawa is Hanamaki. Hanamaki’s eyes are puffy and red, but there are no signs of tears. He looks up when Iwaizumi arrives.

“Cap,” he says, sounding choked. 

“Makki, what happened?”

“Stabbed. I thought Yahaba told you,” Hanamaki says. He turns his gaze back to Matsukawa. Iwaizumi clenches his fists. It’s hard to see one of his officers lying on the bed, motionless, hooked up to so many machines. “From the back. He was stabbed in the back.”

“Who could do this? Who found him?”

“Unknown,” Hanamaki says. His voice is more steady now. “Yahaba was the one who received the call. He was using a voice changer. He gave us the location. Kyoutani and I went down immediately to investigate. When we got there, the one who called us was gone.”

“Gone? What the heck? That’s very suspicious.”

“Yeah, right,” Hanamaki says. “We cordoned off the area. Kunimi joined us soon afterward.”

“Kunimi?”

“Said he was in the area,” Hanamaki says, “and he heard our voices. Came rushing over as soon as he could. He should be helping with the investigation about now. Damn.” He slams a fist on the bedside table. Iwaizumi jumps. “How could I not have…”

“How could you not have what?” Iwaizumi says. “You couldn’t have known this would happen. You couldn’t have saved-”

“But it still...doesn’t…” Hanamaki sighs. “I’ll stay here with him. You should go help Kunimi.”

“Kyoutani returned to the station, right?”

“Yeah, from what I heard,” Hanamaki says. “Not like I could really trust him with the scene anyways.” Kyoutani’s track record for preserving crime scenes is horrendous, Iwaizumi remembers. He wonders why Kyoutani didn’t just become a tactical officer.

“I’ll join you as soon as he wakes up,” Hanamaki says.

Iwaizumi casts one last worried glance at Hanamaki, but the latter is not even paying attention to him anymore. Iwaizumi spins on his heels and shuts the door as quietly as he could. Outside, he leans against the wall, gazing up at the ceiling. How could this happen? First, his landlord. Then, Kai. Now, Mattsun. 

Why is this happening to him?

*

Iwaizumi reaches the crime scene as quickly as he can. Kunimi is standing with an office with the same bored look on his face - drooped eyelids and unsmiling mouth. Kunimi shakes his head. The officer salutes him and marches back, ducking underneath the yellow tape. Kunimi notices his presence and raises a hand in greeting along with a quiet “Captain.”

“Kunimi, what happened here?” 

  
“Assault,” Kunimi says. “Matsukawa-san stabbed. There.” 

The scene of assault, as Yahaba had described, is the male toilet on the fifth floor of Yasaishimaya Departmental Store. It was a rather ulu place - the toilet is reachable by following a narrow pathway leading from the cookery section, then turning left at the crossroads. The path to the right would lead to the multi-storey car park connected to the mall. 

“Any witnesses?”

“Nope. Empty during assault. Attendants weren’t near here.” 

“Uh huh,” Iwaizumi nods. A scenario is already playing out in his head. If the murderer had assaulted Matsukawa in the toilet, then he would have only two ways to escape - through the mall, or through the car park. It is more than likely he would have escaped through the car park. If he had stabbed Matsukawa, he would have been covered in blood, especially since he unplugged the wound by removing the blade. Said blade, according to Kunimi when asked, is nowhere to be found, meaning that the guilty party took it with them, and someone from the departmental store would have seen them. 

That must mean that the culprit escaped towards the car park. Are there any security cameras installed in that place? Plus, it is the car park of a departmental store, right? There would likely be many cars in that place then. Would someone have seen the culprit? But Kunimi has said that there are no witnesses.  _ Damn _ . 

“Who’s handling case?” Kunimi asks.

“Probably me. Or you,” Iwaizumi says. “Are you free right now, Kunimi?”

“Yeah,” Kunimi nods. “No case now. I can take.”

“Good. Then I’m entrusting it to you,” Iwaizumi says. “You have a couple of months, then, Kunimi. Don’t let me down.”

Kunimi nods, still wearing the same blank expression, but his eyes swirl with something that Iwaizumi cannot place.

*

Iwaizumi ignores Oikawa’s messages asking him to eat dinner with him. Iwaizumi is poring over the case files recently classified under solved cases. The SJ-9 case. The Watari Shinji case. 

Irihata Nobuteru, Iwaizumi’s landlord, found dead in an alleyway between his apartment block and the neighbouring block. Photographs are attached as well. His burly body leaning against the wall, blood having poured out from his back and staining the wall behind it. No penknife in sight. 

Iwaizumi stares hard at the pictures. He knows this alleyway very well. This is where he takes out the trash on select days of the week, after all. However, the trash is nowhere in sight - the murder took place late at night when the trash has already been collected - so he gets a clear view of the whole alleyway from one picture.

If Watari Shinji was not the murderer, where did the real murderer escape to? It is flanked by two three-storey buildings, and there are no ledges to climb up to the roofs. If the real murderer is not Watari Shinji, then he would have run straight into Watari if he escaped through the entrance of the alleyway.

That must mean…

This warrants further investigation. Iwaizumi glances at his phone. Oikawa has proposed to have dinner at six at MacDonald’s, which is in an hour’s time. He quickly sends a reply to Oikawa, saying that he has to catch up on a lot of work, asking whether they could postpone the dinner  date outing till tomorrow.

He returns his attention towards the report. Right, he could get to the scene and check out that wall after his shift is over. His phone pings again. 

_ Iwa-chan meaaaaaaan _ \- Sent 5:04pm

_ I’m so pretty wym im trash  _ \- Sent 5:05pm

_ Now about that rock climbing trip you promised me… _ \- Sent 5:05pm

What rock climbing trip? Did Oikawa invite him or something? Chances are that he didn’t - Oikawa does many things on a whim. Such as that random bungee jumping event. Or water skiing that one time when they were at Okinawa. Or that kayaking course that Iwaizumi does not want to remember. Iwaizumi had  _ not  _ been prepared for those events at all. 

Fine, whatever Oikawa wants, Oikawa gets. And it’s much easier dealing with a happy Tooru than a sad Tooru. But rock climbing? A shudder passes through his body. 

Iwaizumi, after a long pause of consideration, texts him: “I’ll tell you after work” and promptly shoves his continuously buzzing phone into his pocket. Oikawa can wait. Watari Shinji first. Now, where was he?

Right, investigate that wall. What else? Oh yeah, the connection between the victim and the convicted suspect. No apparent connection, it seems. They appear to be complete strangers. Therefore, no motive. 

Iwaizumi is not going to solve the case just by sitting around. He packs the files into his bag and leaves early. Yahaba and Kunimi have already left for the day as well. Kyoutani is staying behind since he’s on night duty today - the other one is Hanamaki but he’s currently with the incapacitated Matsukawa. There’s one more member of their department…

Oh yeah. Kindaichi. He’s been out of the station a lot recently, to the point where Iwaizumi doesn’t even see him anymore. Maybe he should text the guy just to check up on him. If he remembers right, Kindaichi took on a shoplifting case - someone stole a bunch of stationery from a bookstore near Iwaizumi’s residence. It should be rather straightforward... 

Iwaizumi texts Kindaichi. The kid is earnest and hardworking, despite having recently joined the force. He worked with Kunimi on many cases - Kunimi had joined the same time as Kindaichi did - until this recent shoplifting case, whereby Department 14 was short-handed and Iwaizumi had to split them up. Kunimi wasn’t happy about that, but he only showed it subtly and respectfully. 

Iwaizumi finally reaches the place where the man had died. The bloodstains had been cleaned up. There is no trace of the murder left behind. Iwaizumi walks up to the wall, running a finger over the bricks. A rough, sandy texture. A cold gale blows and he shoves a hand into his pocket as he clutches the jacket tighter to himself. 

Other than a few loose bricks here and there, there appears to be nothing special about the wall. No secret passageway that appears when you push a special brick or something. Is Iwaizumi’s hunch wrong? No, there must be something. He’s just not thinking of it yet. 

If the murderer could not escape because he was flanked by the two buildings, and that the murderer did not turn back - for he would have run into Watari - he must have fled in the direction of the wall. 

And if there is no secret passageway...Iwaizumi swallows, a realisation suddenly dawning on him. Did the murderer climb over the wall? If so, how did he do it? It’s not like bouldering or stuff like that…

Or is it? 

He stares at the loose bricks. 

_ Footholds _ ! 

The murderer could have scaled the wall and climbed up it. With these loose bricks as footholds...even Iwaizumi at 1.79m could climb this 2.5m wall! Still, whatever footprints left on these footholds could have been removed by Mother Nature already. If he could get some UV light here, perhaps he could still see whether there are some shoeprints left by the balls of the murderer’s feet.

Was there anything like that in the evidence reports? Iwaizumi has to take another look later.

“Iwa-chan!” 

  
Iwaizumi jolts at the noise. He turns to find Oikawa grinning and waving at him from the end of the alleyway, standing at the corner that leads out to the main street. 

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi walks up to him. “Why’re you…?”

“I saw you from your room,” Oikawa says, pointing up at Iwaizumi’s apartment building. Iwaizumi sighs. So Oikawa was hanging out at his apartment again. Figures. “I was wondering when Iwa-chan would be back.”

“First of all, stop eating my instant noodles,” Iwaizumi says. He grabs Oikawa’s wrist and leads him out into the alleyway. If they were cornered by any unsavoury characters in there… “Second of all, stop drinking all my coffee.”

“But Iwa-chan! I  _ paid  _ for the coffee!”

“Who gives instant coffee as a birthday present anyway?”

Oikawa’s mouth stretches into his trademark smile. “Iwa-chan! You remembered!” 

“How could I forget receiving instant coffee on my birthday?”

“I took you out to dinner.”

“To MacDonald’s.”

As expected, Oikawa follows Iwaizumi back to his apartment. While he watches reruns of some TV drama, Iwaizumi is camping out at his desk, reading over the evidence list once again, reminding Oikawa not to turn the volume up too high. He shuts the door to his room and digs out the files once again. 

Evidence collected at the scene: Penknife stained with the victim’s blood and contains the suspect’s fingerprints, Not pushed to the hilt. Some sort of unidentified footprints on the ground - absolutely no prints made by a shoe - it lacked the ridges. They weren’t made by bare feet either. A piece of pink thread caught on the bricks of the wall. Iwaizumi was right, someone  _ else  _ had been at the scene! And they had likely climbed the wall, no less. To escape to the other side! Does that mean that…

Iwaizumi has to take another look at the other side of that wall. He cannot climb it - for sure - so he would have to round the flat. He emerges from his room to find Oikawa speaking on the phone with someone, leaning against the kitchenette. 

“Yeah, just don’t go off and do stupid things, you hear?” Oikawa says loudly. “And eat meat. Lots of it. Both of you need the protein...yeah, sure. Bye.”

“Who was that?” 

“One of my students,” Oikawa says, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Asking about nutrition. Sort of makes me feel wanted as a coach.”

“Yeah, you needy prick,” Iwaizumi mutters. “I’m going off to do some investigation. Same rules as usual. Don’t use excessive shampoo, don’t waste my electricity, don’t waste water, and for God’s sake don’t dump your dirty clothes all around my apartment.”

  
Oikawa pouts at Iwaizumi’s back. Iwaizumi has already thrown on his jacket and is pulling on his black shoes, tying the laces. 

“Will you be back soon?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi nods. “Just need to confirm something downstairs.”

Iwaizumi misses the furrow of Oikawa’s brow as he leaves.

*

Iwaizumi comes to the other side of the wall. He squats down and attempts to find any clues of any sort. If the killer truly came by here, then that would mean that he would leave something behind, right? 

Iwaizumi uses his phone’s flashlight and looks around. Nothing but dirt and grime against the wall...is that…? 

Bingo! A clump of pink thread. Could that mean that the killer really came through here? If so, he must have run through this alleyway…Iwaizumi looks behind him. The only way out of his alleyway would be by the narrow entrance whereby Iwaizumi entered from, or a set of staircase leading up to Iwaizumi’s apartment block. The fire escape staircase is usually kept open so people would use the staircase frequently as well. 

He would have to investigate these places one by one. He walks down the alleyway whence he came, bypassing the fire escape staircase, keeping out for any signs the murderer may have left behind. Think, Hajime! The killer was dressed in something pink, and had rushed out this way. Believing himself to be safe, would he have stopped running and started walking instead? If he went out this way...he would have…

“Iwa-chan!” 

Iwaizumi startles at the noise. He turns around to find Oikawa barrelling down the flight of stairs, clearly frightened and shaken. He tunnels into Iwaizumi’s side, wrapping his arms tightly around Iwaizumi’s shoulders, trembling. 

“Holy crap, Oikawa, what happened?” Iwaizumi drops his phone, the device clattering to the ground. Iwaizumi tries not to wince at that.

“Y-Your apartment…” Oikawa wheezes. “Thief...burglar...someone…” He pants, gasping for breath, his shirt soaked with his sweat.

“You left the door unlocked again, didn’t you? Go wait at MacDonald’s,” Iwaizumi says, remembering the 24/7 outlet just a few blocks from here. “I’ll come collect you later, okay?” His apartment? Broken into? Why would anyone do that? 

The murderer? Come to steal the case files? 

“No, Iwa-chan! It’s not safe! Come with me!” Oikawa says, peering up at Iwaizumi with those beady eyes. “Please! Just file a police report...oh wait.” Oikawa chuckles sheepishly, wiping at his eyes. “You’re a police officer, aren’t you?” 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Seriously, Asskawa! Let me go! I need to go back up and check!” 

As he was about to dash back up to his apartment, Oikawa grabs his wrist. “Promise me you’ll come back, Iwa-chan?”

“Yeah, promise,” Iwaizumi says. He dashes up the staircase, leaving Oikawa standing alone in the alleyway.


	5. Chapter 4

They say it never rains but pours. Iwaizumi is living that idiom right now. When he enters his apartment, he finds the door unlocked and ajar. Stupid Oikawa. He pushes the door open warily. The thief may still be inside and armed. 

Nothing seems out of order. Nothing at all. Nothing is rummaged through, no disturbance to any of his furniture. Everything is untouched.

Iwaizumi ventures further into the house. Thank God it’s only a two-room house. If the thief is still in here, he has to be in Iwaizumi’s bedroom. Iwaizumi gingerly steps through the door, body tense. Shit, he wishes he has Matsukawa’s combat prowess now. When Iwaizumi flicks the light switch on, he sees nothing. No shadow. The thief must have gone. 

He breathes a shaky sigh of relief, then remembers. The case files! He glances at his desk, where the papers are supposed to lie.

Missing. 

As expected.

Iwaizumi slumps against his chair. Good Lord. A captain losing case files is just plain wrong. Unless he recovers them, he’s going to lose his position. The killer must have seen him gathering the case files from the Records Room back at the station. Or the killer must have seen him talking to Watari and realised that Iwaizumi was going to reopen the case. He must have tracked Iwaizumi and…

  
Who the hell is the killer? Does it mean that it is someone on the force? Iwaizumi tries to think back to that time he spent in the Records Room, digging through the dusty cupboards to find the file he needed.

Apart from a few officers, there was no one else there. And those officers probably didn’t even notice his presence. After all, not many people want to look through old documents pertaining to solved cases.

The only other person who could have seen him looking at the case files...was Kyoutani, the other officer in Department 14 who was on night duty, who had still been there before Iwaizumi had left. Could he be the one…?

No, Iwaizumi shakes his head. It wouldn’t do for the Captain to suspect his own teammates. He must have a logical reason to believe that any of them committed the crime. Still, he’d better check. Iwaizumi dials the department’s number, leaning against his wardrobe. “Hello? Kyoutani, are you there?”

“Captain.”

Iwaizumi pauses. He doesn’t sound like he ran - which would be impossible time-wise if he was the one who had raided Iwaizumi’s apartment. “I need to file a report.” That rules him out. 

“What happened?”

“Send a team down now. My apartment got broken into.”

*

Hanamaki is the one who arrives with a grim expression on his face. It looks like Matsukawa has yet to awaken and Hanamaki got booted from the hospital since visiting hours are over. As promised, Iwaizumi had left the scene to his trusted officer while he heads down to the MacDonald’s to collect Oikawa.

“Ah, Kunimi,” Iwaizumi notices the familiar mop of hair as his subordinate emerges from the MacDonald’s. “You live around here?”

“Yeah.” Kunimi points to an apartment block not too far from Iwaizumi’s, opposite the MacDonald’s. “Kindaichi and I. Floor 12, room 13.”

“Ah, I see,” Iwaizumi nods, not entirely sure why Kunimi is being so detailed. “I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Cap.”

He watches as Kunimi walks away, in the direction of the apartment. He should have asked Kunimi about Kindaichi. Oh well, much too late for that. He enters the fast food restaurant with a jingle of the bell. Oikawa is stuffing his face with fries and a sundae.

“See, you’re fine,” Iwaizumi says, settling into the booth next to him and stealing a fry. Oikawa dabs at another fry with a serviette, disposing the greasy paper onto the tray. 

“Yeah, but I was worried about  _ you _ ,” Oikawa says, ducking his head, pink dusting his cheeks. 

Iwaizumi looks away, blush mirroring Oikawa’s. God, can Oikawa stop with that shy act when they’re alone? It makes Iwaizumi feel special, and it’s doing nothing to calm his racing heart. 

  
“Uh, if you want, you can crash at my place,” Oikawa says. “Your apartment would be a crime scene or something, right?”

“Yeah, I wish,” Iwaizumi says. “I mean, crashing at your place. I’m gonna take this case, man. Hanamaki would want the Matsukawa assault case.”

“The Matsukawa assault case? Isn’t Matsukawa your colleague?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says, swallowing. “He got attacked, by someone. I don’t know how, but Matsukawa is good at fighting close up. He can’t lose...not just to anyone. Lord, this sucks.” 

“Iwa-chan, what if this guy was out to kill?” 

“He definitely was,” Iwaizumi says. “We got tipped off by some anonymous witness. Hell, it could even have been the killer!” He grabs a fistful of fries and stuffs it into his mouth. “Then Makki said he found Mattsun bleeding out on the ground and had him sent to the hospital immediately.”

“Shit man,” Oikawa says, looking rather compassionate. “You...you’re taking on this case? Or the theft case?”

“Lord knows Makki wants that one. The assault case, that is,” Iwaizumi says, dragging a hand across his face and munching on more of Oikawa’s fries. “I’ve got to go back and probably help with the investigation.”

“Walk me home?” Oikawa asks pleadingly. 

Iwaizumi stands. “Fine. Hurry up, Shittykawa.”

*

After walking Oikawa home and promising to message him in the morning or go over to his house, Iwaizumi prepares himself for getting no sleep in two days. He takes the night shift tomorrow. 

Iwaizumi finds the investigation going well underway, with Hanamaki directing most of the officers. A couple of forensics in white Tyvek suits are inside, searching for clues. Yellow tape has been strung up outside his door. Naturally, the presence of police has drawn attention from most of Iwaizumi’s neighbours, some peering anxiously out from a gap between their doors and the doorjambs. Iwaizumi pays them no mind.

“So, find anything?” Iwaizumi asks, walking up to Hanamaki. 

“Yeah, something like that,” Hanamaki says. “Shoeprints. Very obvious ones. It’s like they’re not even trying to hide anything.”

“From the secondary crime scene?”

“Same shoeprints. We’ve got officers following the tracks now. Photographs are also with other officers. Should be sent to the office to develop them soon,” Hanamaki says. “So, uh, from what I can see, the thief is rather specific, if there was a thief at all.” 

“Clearly interested in a case file,” Iwaizumi says, hand on his hip. “Someone stole a fucking case file.”

“Seriously?” Hanamaki stares at him, wide-eyed. “So, you mean, like, someone from the force?”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Iwaizumi says. “Someone from the force saw me take that file out and bring it back home. Someone  _ stole  _ it.” 

“Which case file is it? The one we just closed?”

“Yeah, the Watari Shinji case,” Iwaizumi says. The SJ-9 case. “Speaking of which, I don’t think that Watari is the killer.”

“The trial’s over though. Are you trying to get a retrial?” Hanamaki asks.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says. “Probably.” 

“Want to walk me through your logic?”

Iwaizumi explains the information that had been overlooked, and the new piece of evidence that he has found. The pink threads. He has no idea where it came from, however, but it should match the thread found on the other side of the wall.

“Huh. So our killer is an adept climber,” Hanamaki says. “And he wore some pink footwear.”

“Pink...footwear…” Iwaizumi mumbles. “Oh my Lord, you’re a genius.”

“Why thank you, even though I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.”

“Pink footwear that leaves threads behind,” Iwaizumi says, grabbing Hanamaki’s shoulders. “Our killer was wearing  _ socks _ !” 

“Socks!” Hanamaki stares at him as if Iwaizumi’s grown three heads. “Who the fuck wears socks to kill people?”

“So that they won’t leave footprints behind,” Iwaizumi says. “Now we’ve got to canvass the area for people who have pink socks!”

“P-Pink...socks...my word…” Hanamaki slaps a hand to his forehead melodramatically. “You’re a joke. How are we gonna mobilise so many people…”

“That’s why I’m reopening the case, so that makes it an official investigation again,” Iwaizumi says. “This is major, Makki! Watari-san could have been wrongly convicted!”

“A retrial huh,” Hanamaki says, grinning. “Haven’t had one in years. I like it. God knows there are too many wrong convictions nowadays.”

  
The Era of Mistrust. Iwaizumi knows exactly what Hanamaki is talking about. It has become commonplace for investigators to withhold evidence, or for prosecutors and defense attorneys to forge evidence to the point where the people of Haikyuu no longer have confidence in their police force or their legal system. 

“Right then,” Hanamaki says. “I’m handing the baton over to you for this case. Ciao.”

“You’re going to take on that case, aren’t you?” Iwaizumi says. 

Hanamaki nods. “Yeah. Find out who the fucker who did this to Mattsun is.” With that, he raises a hand in greeting, and leaves. “I’ll help you fill in the paperwork for that retrial, if you really want it.”

Iwaizumi thanks him, turns back to his apartment which is now a crime scene, and sighs. It’s going to be a long night.

*

They could not find anything of interest regarding the thief. Officers have been dispatched to investigate the void decks and the neighbouring flats, but come up with nothing. Oikawa has been messaging him the entire night, to the point where Iwaizumi just wants to throw his phone against the wall. 

So the thief grabbed his case file, knowing exactly where it was. They had then run off with it, according to Hanamaki, who had noted that it was rather obvious this time around. There was a group of officers who had gone to investigate where the culprit had fled to. They did not find anything, however, because the culprit’s footprints disappeared along the pavement, a ways after exiting the elevator. 

The elevator? That’s weird. Why did he not take the fire escape stairs? Sure, they would have bumped into Oikawa and Iwaizumi, but there was no way that the thief would have known that. Why take the risk and take the elevator, where he could be trapped the moment he left it. 

Could the thief have left in a vehicle? It was possible. Iwaizumi goes down to the roadside to check. A few cars roar by - clearly speeding, but Iwaizumi has enough on his hands as of now - but of those parked along the streetside, there was none that he remembered not seeing earlier, when he had returned from the station. None of the cars had left.

That must mean that the thief either took a taxi or ran away on foot. If it is the latter, then they wouldn’t have gone far. 

“Call every single taxi company in the city,” Iwaizumi tells an accompanying officer. “Ask them if any of their drivers had picked someone up around Daioh Street, 4th Avenue.”

The officer and a couple others get to work immediately. 

Still, if the thief had escaped on foot...he would have gotten rather far by now. Iwaizumi receives a text, his phone buzzing again. He musters all his willpower not to hurl the phone a considerable distance as he picks it up, and breathes in relief to see that it was Kindaichi who had texted him back.

_ Sorry Iwaizumi-san, I’ll wrap up the case soon!  _

Well, that’s good to hear. Iwaizumi pockets his phone, ignoring the other 64 messages from Oikawa. 

*

By daybreak, they had gotten no closer to finding the burglar. Iwaizumi is running on fumes, even as he downs his third cup of espresso that day, made by Oikawa. Oikawa, having been a barista before for a short while, makes surprisingly good coffee.

“So, Iwa-chan, about that rock climbing thing...they said we could bring a friend!”

“Oh, so that’s what it is,” Iwaizumi says grumpily. “Not like I’ve ever been able to stop you even once. And not like you’ve got other friends.”

“Iwa-chan, mean!” Oikawa grins. “You’re not pulling my leg, are you?” 

“Why would I?” Iwaizumi mutters. His mind wanders back to the three crimes that he is currently involved in. The Watari Shinji case that Hanamaki promised he’d help him reopen, the Matsukawa assault case and the theft of the SJ-9 case file. He’s putting a lot of things on his plate and he knows it.

“Alright! Saturday, right? Okay, I’ll put our names under Saturday…” Oikawa happily hums a tune to himself as he keys in their participation details into an online form.

“Right,” Iwaizumi says, slamming his cup down on the counter of Oikawa’s kitchen. Maybe he’ll take a little nap at the station. It’s Monday, after all. The week has just begun and he cannot burn out now. “I’m going now. Aoba Johsai has training later, right?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa nods. “See you after that, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi mumbles something incoherent and makes for the hospital. According to Hanamaki, it appears that Matsukawa has woken up. 

*

Iwaizumi isn’t sure what he was expecting when he walked near. Perhaps silence. Perhaps...oh Iwaizumi doesn’t know. He definitely did  _ not  _ expect to hear Matsukawa’s scratchy voice confessing to Hanamaki.

Lord, now he feels like a voyeur, listening to Hanamaki exclaiming in delight and saying a thousand times yes. Iwaizumi sits on a cushy bench outside, wondering whether he should just return to the station. He made the effort to come all the way here though. Feels like a waste of time to just leave.

_ Maybe I should go _ , Iwaizumi thinks when he hears what are unmistakable moans and the wet sounds of kisses from within the room. Yes, he tells himself. No matter how much he wants to see his teammates safe and awake, it’s another thing to have to force yourself to listen to two of them making out. When one of them has just awoken, no less.

Iwaizumi is about to stand and leave when he sees Kunimi’s approach. Kunimi greets him with a bow. 

Iwaizumi decides that it’s time. He knocks on the door, a hand over his eyes, and swings it open. “Are you decent?”

“Uh.” It was a drawn-out syllable from both Hanamaki and Matsukawa, and Iwaizumi only removes his hand when Kunimi tells him that it’s fine. Iwaizumi stares them both down, the two of them turning a bright shade of red.

“So, uh,” Iwaizumi says, clearing his throat, “glad to see you’re alright, Mattsun.”

Matsukawa recovers quickly. He salutes Iwaizumi. “Thanks, Cap.”

“Here to see victim,” Kunimi says. “Matsukawa-san. Need statements.”

“Alright,” Matsukawa says. “No rest for the police, huh. Oh, and Iwaizumi? You owe me a dinner.”

Iwaizumi nods, turning to leave. “It was nice doing business with you, Mattsun. Now that I’ve paid my courtesy call, I’ve got to go. Crime waits for no man.”

There was a chorus of goodbyes as Iwaizumi walks out of the room, hands shoved into his pockets. Well, at least Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s problem is solved.

_ Love, huh _ ?

*

Investigation went on as usual. Nothing came up for any of their cases. Irihata’s murderer, the shoplifter of the bookstore theft, Matsukawa’s assailant, the burglar who had broken into Iwaizumi’s house…

And the case file is still nowhere to be found. Still, there were no other issues that cropped up, which Iwaizumi is thankful for. 

The canvass for people with pink socks was rather useless, Iwaizumi thinks. Likely, the one who had worn them had probably disposed of them. There was no point tracking down such a person.

At this current point in time, Iwaizumi is standing at the base of a rock wall, strapped into a harness. He prays with all his heart that the harness, rope, pulley and belay team can hold his weight. 

Nope, Iwaizumi is  _ not  _ scared of heights. His acrophobia is a thing of the past. No, he’s not getting jelly legs.

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath and grabs the colourful hand- and footholds on the artificial rock wall. Oikawa has already started climbing before he did, moving deftly up the wall as if he is flying.

Easy does it. Iwaizumi gulps. His lungs feel as if they are contracting. Lord, he’s barely hit the halfway mark. His legs are shaking. His muscles tighten as he hoists himself even higher, hyper aware of the harness flush against his body, his sweat-slicked palms getting slipperier and slipperier. 

Then, the unthinkable - or not really - happens. Iwaizumi loses his grip. His stomach drops as he tumbles backwards, feet leaving the footholds. His heart skips one too many beats till he feels the sharp tug of the harness, keeping him suspended in the air. He hears voices, but does not understand what they are saying. He’s got a clear view of the ground. Lord no. He’s so high. Oh God, get him off, get him off, gethimoffgethimoff- 

“Iwa-chan!”

Someone grabs his hand. Iwaizumi turns to find Oikawa looking at him, dangling from his harness as well. Has Oikawa already climbed to the top? 

“Come on, Iwa-chan, let’s go down,” Oikawa says. He laces their fingers together. “Don’t look down, okay? Look at me.” 

Iwaizumi’s breathing is a wrecked mess. Oikawa’s face is so close. He sees Oikawa turning his head to yell at the belay team. They begin the descent, and the grip around Iwaizumi’s wrist gets tighter.

They reach the ground in no time at all, and Iwaizumi thanks every single god he can think of for delivering him back onto terra safe and sound. 

Lord, this is embarrassing, Iwaizumi thinks as he removes the harness with the help of the instructor. Oikawa pouts, eyebrows drawn together, not meeting Iwaizumi’s gaze. Iwaizumi walks over to him, still a little unsteady.

“Sorry for dragging you into this,” Oikawa says, looking like he’s about to cry. “I didn’t know…I thought it…” 

“It’s fine,” Iwaizumi mumbles. Lord, Oikawa looks so cute like that. “I was the one who agreed. Don’t take it too hard upon yourself.”

“But still…” 

Their conversation is interrupted by the growling of Oikawa’s stomach. Iwaizumi laughs. 

“How about I treat you to some lunch?” Iwaizumi says.

Oikawa brightens up immediately and throws his arms around Iwaizumi, who splutters at the sudden close contact. “Aw, Iwa-chan! I know you love me!”

_ Yeah,  _ Iwaizumi thinks. His heartbeat quickens.  _ Yeah, I do. _

*

They end up having lunch at a ramen shop, sharing a plate of fried gyoza and agedashi tofu. Oikawa eats happily, slurping up the noodles and dumping the gyoza in the brown sauce. Iwaizumi picks at his noodles, stomach still doing cartwheels from the experience earlier. 

“Iwa-chan, next time you can be my belayer.”

“Belayer? The people pulling the rope?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa says. “Because...you still have...that, don’t you?” 

Iwaizumi hums in response. He finds it embarrassing - Iwaizumi the Captain, the Iwaizumi Hajime that everyone looks up to and respects, the Iwaizumi Hajime that pulls through in times of crises...is scared of heights. But if it’s Oikawa...surprisingly, he doesn’t mind. 

“Sorry,” Oikawa says, dipping his head. The atmosphere got tense again. Iwaizumi reaches over and ruffles his hair. 

“It’s fine. It’s in the past.”

Oikawa leans into his touch, and drops his head onto Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Why is it that everything he does makes him more endearing? 

“Iwa-chan, do you like me?”

“What? Of course.” Hell, I probably love you but you don’t need to know that. He swallows painfully. “I’m your best friend, remember?”

Oikawa nuzzles into Iwaizumi’s neck. “No, I mean, like…” He breathes out shakily. Iwaizumi thanks his lucky stars that Oikawa cannot see his burning face right now. “Do you like  _ like _ me?”

  
Oh. This. The million-dollar question. Iwaizumi freezes. It is as if time is standing still, because this pause felt like an eternity.

“I...uh…” Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say. Yes? No? Wait, if Oikawa is asking him this, does that mean…? “I...don’t k-”

“I like you a lot,” Oikawa says shyly, quietly. He takes a deep breath. “More than...more than friends.”

His pulse is racing, heart threatening to burst from his ribcage. Iwaizumi slowly turns to the mop of brown, unruly curls against his neck and shoulder. The last words Oikawa said plays on a loop in his head like a broken record. I like you a lot. More than friends.

“Do you like me too, Iwa-chan? Be honest.” He is more insistent, more inquisitive. It is as if Oikawa’s fingers are reaching into his mind, digits like wispy smoke prodding at his brain, digging for an answer.

  
“I…” Iwaizumi gulps. “I like...I like you too. More than as a friend.”

A pair of arms snake around his waist. Their bowls of steaming ramen now forgotten on the table as Oikawa wraps himself around Iwaizumi. Oikawa places a small kiss at the base of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Good shivers. Pleasurable shivers.

  
Yeah, Iwaizumi thinks as he mutters something about their ramen turning cold, and revels in Oikawa’s laughter against his bare skin. 


	6. Chapter 5

Matsukawa is discharged from the hospital the day after. He returns to the office, more smiley and relaxed than usual. Of course, he and Hanamaki make their relationship known the moment the step into the office, fingers intertwined. 

Yahaba is the first to congratulate them, screaming something about how he knew it would happen one day. Kyoutani barely spares them a glance. Iwaizumi congratulates them once more. 

“So, when’s your turn, Cap?” Yahaba wiggles his brow suggestively. 

“Never,” Iwaizumi lies, huffing. God, he can’t believe his department sometimes. 

“Aw, his ears are red,” Matsukawa says teasingly. “So, is it that guy you always hang out with? The one the same age as us. What’s his name again?” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t reply, but his blush speaks volumes.

“Oh my God! Yahaba! Get a shot of this!” Hanamaki shrieks with laughter. Yahaba whips out his phone with a scary smile on his face. Soon, the entire station is yelling and screaming and the only one who’s silent is Kyoutani, but even then, there is a sort of betrayed look on his face. Well,  _ Iwaizumi _ feels betrayed by his whole department.

“Get back to work!” 

Iwaizumi stalks off towards his own office. He’s got stuff to do, and thinking about Oikawa isn’t helping lots. The reports from forensics have arrived on his desk - the one regarding the break-in at his apartment. 

The door’s lock hadn’t been forced - the door was likely to have already been open when the thief came in. 

Did the thief know the door would be open? Does that mean that the thief had been watching him? Or had the thief come prepared and was just lucky? In any case, leaving the door open is totally Oikawa’s fault. 

Next, there is a foreign set of footprints besides his bare feet and some sock prints - which he believes belongs to Oikawa. These set of footprints are wearing boots. Standard issue police boots. Lord, Iwaizumi knew that the thief was someone on the force. These footprints circled around his living room, then headed into his room. When the thief had done so, Oikawa must have bolted. 

The only fingerprints found at the scene was Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s. There is a set of glove marks. Cotton gloves, apparently. A grey thread was found at the scene. 

Next, CCTV footage of the elevator. If the thief had escaped in that direction… yes, there was something. At the void deck, emerging from the elevator, is a man dressed wholly in black, a black beanie on a head of black hair with a face adorning a black mask. A black jacket coupled with black pants and shoes. And this guy…

The case file! There in his hand! There are more photographs depicting an enlargement of the footage. The beanie has white words written on them spelling out DOPE. There is the Seijoh Regional volleyball team logo on his breast. It does not look like an official jersey so the person must be a fan. They are wearing the police boots.

The outfit reminds Iwaizumi of someone. Who could it be? He remembers seeing someone wearing something similar...sometime...ago…

His face. There is an enlargement of it. Iwaizumi stares at it, dread making his skin crawl and his stomach flip. He knows that face. He  _ knows  _ that guy. And for some reason or other, he’s reported in sick today.

Kunimi Akira.

*

Five calls that didn’t go through, twenty text messages asking where he is, and Iwaizumi is getting no nearer to finding him. Kunimi Akira. How could he? Does that mean that Kunimi was the one behind the Watari Shinji case? 

No, Kunimi must have a good explanation for what he did. 

Iwaizumi is running out of the station, pounding the pavement as he runs all the way back to where Kunimi stays. If he really  _ is  _ sick, he would be at home, right?

_ Floor 12, room 13. _

The elevator dings and Iwaizumi emerges from it, running down the narrow corridor, dodging random flower pots and bicycles and other random pieces of junk littering the corridor. Iwaizumi reaches Room 13 and presses the doorbell, waiting anxiously for a reply on the other end. 

The door opens and Kunimi sticks his head out, a cold patch on his head. Other than that, he looks the same as usual.

“Cap?” 

“Kunimi...you…Is Kindaichi in there?”

“Kindaichi? No, he’s out,” Kunimi says. He coughs. It may be Iwaizumi’s preconceptions, but it sounds rather faked. 

“Kunimi, I have to place you under arrest for breaking and entering,” Iwaizumi says, holding up his trusty handcuffs. 

“Breaking and entering?” For someone who was just accused, he does not appear surprised at all. Simply resigned. 

“Yes,” Iwaizumi says. “We caught your face on the security footage. You were carrying the case file, weren’t you? The one on the SJ-9 case.”

“SJ-9? Was that what it was?” Kunimi breathes, looking genuinely stunned. 

“Yes,” Iwaizumi says, tilting his head. Something isn’t right. “You didn’t know?”

“N-I mean, yes, I did,” Kunimi says quickly. No, something is totally off. Kunimi’s demeanour has changed totally, from someone who sounds like he’s given up to someone who’s fear has overridden all rational thought. “I had to get rid of it, Cap. I hope you understand.”

“Had to get rid of it? What do you mean? Kunimi, you aren’t telling me-” 

“The jig’s up then,” Kunimi says. His expression has morphed once again, from being one of great fear to one of a malicious grin. “Yeah, I knew you’d get to the bottom of it once I heard you were reopening the case, Cap.”

  
“You…!” Betrayal punches Iwaizumi in the gut. Kunimi Akira, after all this time, had been the murderer for the Watari Shinji case? 

  
“I won’t move if I were you, Cap,” Kunimi says. He has whipped his gun out, the weapon carefully concealed behind him on his belt. The gun is trained on Iwaizumi, who does not move an inch. He is not going to surrender to a criminal, even if that criminal is his own officer. “Not unless you want your head to get blown off.”

This is...not the Kunimi he knows. Iwaizumi gulps. The Kunimi he knows will never sport such an expression. He would never point a gun at someone else. Hell, he would never speak so informally and in complete sentences.

This person, standing before him, is not Kunimi. It is a demon possessing Kunimi’s body.

“Kunimi, put the gun down.”

“No,” Kunimi says. “I’m going to walk out of here, and you’re going to let me.” He swallows, then adds, “Cap.” 

“Kunimi, I can get you a lighter sentence if you give yourself up. Don’t do things you’ll regret in the future.”

“I’m not regretting this,” Kunimi says. He is clearly uncomfortable. Chip by chip, his brave face is coming off. His hand is shaking, Iwaizumi notices. If he can just lunge forward and grab the gun… 

“Don’t bother following me, Cap.”

Kunimi takes off into a run. Iwaizumi didn’t know that Kunimi could reach such speeds. He dashes down the corridor, away from the elevator. Iwaizumi gives chase. He barely spots Kunimi as the latter rounds a corner, darting through a narrow doorway. The green fire-exit sign flickers above it.

Kunimi fires a shot when he hears Iwaizumi’s thundering footsteps. Iwaizumi automatically ducks, the bullet ricocheting off the metallic staircase and hitting the alabaster wall. Cursing his momentary inaction, Iwaizumi picks up the place, leaping down stairs three at a time. 

Kunimi throws open the door and runs out, into a deserted, nearby park. Thankfully, since he works out with Oikawa at least once a week - minus his frequent morning jogs - he’s still in top form and easily catches up with Kunimi. He tackles Kunimi to the ground, holding him down with his weight and slaps handcuffs on his wrists. Kunimi does not struggle even as Iwaizumi wrenches the gun from his grasp and tosses it a good few meters away. God that barrel is hot! 

“Back to the station, now,” Iwaizumi says. Kunimi does not dignify that with a response, but obediently follows Iwaizumi anyway.

Too obedient, Iwaizumi thinks.

*

Well, that’s two cases solved. A pair of pink socks were found in the dumpster near Kunimi’s house, two holes torn in one of them. The case file was found there too. Unclear prints were found but forensics tells him that at least sixteen ridges had matched with Kunimi’s, so the fingerprints were undeniably his. 

Iwaizumi had thanked his lucky stars that the case file had been found. Who knows what Ushijima - the head of the police HQ in Shiratorizawa, the Haikyuu capital - had to say about that. He could have stripped Iwaizumi of his rank as a Captain and be transferred to another department. 

“Wow, Cap. Closing two cases at once,” Hanamaki says, clapping Iwaizumi on the shoulder. “And overturning a verdict. How cool is that?”

“The coolest,” Iwaizumi replies without missing a beat. “How’re you coming along with your investigations?”

“Eh, no headway, which is kinda maddening,” Hanamaki says, twirling a pen between his teeth. “I thought you’d be more interested in where Mattsun is.”

“Speaking of which...?” Iwaizumi mumbles. And now that he mentions it, Kindaichi is still missing. Perhaps Iwaizumi should go and- 

  
A sudden bad feeling claims him as he rises from his seat. If Kunimi had been living in the same apartment as Kindaichi, and that he was a murderer… does that mean that…? 

“He’s over at the Interrogation Rooms,” Hanamaki says, looking bemused, but not surprised. “If you-” 

“Makki, when was the last time you saw Kindaichi?”

“Kindaichi? A week ago? Or something?” Hanamaki scratches his head. “If you ask me, I’d think the guy’s come down with an incurable disease.”

“Incurable, alright,” Iwaizumi says, gritting his teeth. Death certainly is incurable. He throws on his coat. “Makki, you free?”

“Well, yeah. Kinda.”

“I hope Mattsun doesn’t mind that I’m borrowing you,” Iwaizumi says. “We’re going to have to go find Kindaichi.”

*

Kunimi’s apartment is being investigated, taped up bright and yellow. Iwaizumi and Hanamaki enter the small apartment - dark and tiny, but homey at the same time. Clashing colours are everywhere - baby blue curtains and a walnut dresser, white porcelain plates and black lacquer bowls, a silver washing machine against bright yellow wallpaper. 

Kindaichi’s room appears untouched. It looks like the futon hasn’t been slept in for a while. The case files regarding the shoplifting case is still left on his table, opened, dust gathering between the pages. He must have been away for a long, long time. 

No signs of any struggle. If Kunimi did something to Kindaichi, then Iwaizumi hoped that it had, at least, been quick. Still, there are no signs that Kindaichi was hurt here, so he’s optimistic. 

  
“Hey, what’s that?” 

Hanamaki is pointing at something on the ceiling. Something black fitted against the light fixture. Nearly unseeable. Hanamaki has some amazing eyesight. He cups his mouth and calls, “Hey! Officer!” It takes an officer with a stepladder to retrieve the black object. It has a tiny lens, and some duct tape residue where it was attached to the ceiling.

“A camera?” Hanamaki mumbles, leaning with an arm on Iwaizumi’s shoulder as the latter inspects it, hands in latex gloves. Iwaizumi closes an eye and stares into the lens. “I wonder what it’s for.”

“Why would Kunimi have a camera here?” Iwaizumi mutters to himself. “It’s probably too small to get any prints off of it, but we can try.” Was he spying on Kindaichi? But don’t they live in the same apartment? Why go through the hassle?

“You know, maybe, just consider that it’s  _ not  _ Kunimi,” Hanamaki says seriously as Iwaizumi hands the camera off to a forensics officer. “You think Kunimi could have been a pawn? That the real mastermind is still out there?”

“A pawn?” Iwaizumi hadn’t considered that. If so, that may be how he can explain away Kunimi’s betrayal and queer behaviour from earlier. If the one behind the Watari Shinji case and the Iwaizumi’s-apartment-break-in case is someone else and that Kunimi is just the scapegoat, then that means…

“Another wrongful arrest,” Hanamaki says. All cheer is gone from his demeanour. “Although, if Kunimi is an accomplice, he’s still liable to be charged for it. And that means that the city isn’t safe yet. Not when the real murderer is out there somewhere.”

Iwaizumi grips the latex gloves so hard that his fingers have turned white. Is this an oversight on his part? Was he too eager to catch the criminal that he didn’t even begin to imagine why Kunimi had acted so out of character? Was this all his fault?

What kind of a Captain  _ is  _ he? 

“Cap?” 

Hanamaki looks at him, a hand on his hip. “I think we should look for more clues, don’t you?”

Iwaizumi nods, but his failure weighs heavily on his mind. 

Over the next hour or so, the two scour the three rooms. In Kindaichi’s room, they found a voice recorder. They also found the same two devices planted in both Kunimi’s room and the living room. Six devices in total. They were all sent to forensics.

Who had managed to plant these devices? If it’s not Kunimi and Kindaichi...then it must have been a third person? Someone who has access to their house, of course. 

“We have to go back and have a talk with Kunimi,” Iwaizumi says. “Come on.”

*

Kunimi is as silent as ever, expression revealing nothing. He looks up and dips his head when he notices Iwaizumi and Hanamaki’s arrival, staring at a scar on the table. Iwaizumi and Hanamaki settle down in the seats opposite him. Kunimi looks the worse for wear, dark bags under his eyes, dishevelled hair and tight lips. His Aoba Johsai jacket hangs off his thin frame. However, his eyes carry an alertness that sends shivers down Iwaizumi’s spine. Iwaizumi taps on the recorder on the table beside them. 

“This is Iwaizumi Hajime, Captain of Department 14 and Hanamaki Takahiro, officer in the same department, commencing an interview with Kunimi Akira. The time now is 3:54pm,” Iwaizumi says. “Please state your occupation.”

“Police officer, but currently, a suspect,” Kunimi says blandly, as if rehearsed.

“We have a few questions to ask you,” Iwaizumi says. “Please answer to the best of your ability. And honestly. Anything you say may be used against you in court. Firstly, do you know where Kindaichi Yuutarou is?”

“I don’t know,” Kunimi says. It sounds like he’s telling the truth. “I didn’t see him since last week.”

That was around the time Kindaichi stopped coming into the office, the day when Iwaizumi had assigned him that shoplifting case. The case files left open on Kindaichi’s desk, untouched for a very long time.

“Do you have any idea where he could be?”

“No. Not that I know of.”

“Makki, can you contact the customs officers? Ask if Kindaichi left Seijoh,” Iwaizumi says. Hanamaki gets on it, heading outside, already digging his phone out of his pocket. “Kunimi-san, we had found some audio and visual recording devices in your room.”

“Recording devices?”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi says. “They were attached to your light fixtures, on the ceiling. Do you know who might have set it up?”

Kunimi bites his lip. Iwaizumi leans back against the chair, the backrest creaking. Neither speaks for a very long time. 

“You’ve been trying very hard to dispel the existence of this third person, but we both know that you did not plant the recording devices, and neither did Kindaichi, because he went missing and, let’s face it: you wouldn’t plant a recording device in your own room.”

“That’s-” 

“There’s no need for you to deny the possibility of the existence of the third person any longer,” Iwaizumi says. “He is the one who killed Irihata-san, wasn’t he?”

Kunimi looks unsure. “I...I can’t tell you.”   
  


“How about the break-in? They coerced you into stealing the case file, didn’t they?” Iwaizumi says. 

“I can’t tell you that either.”

“Why? What does he have over you?” Iwaizumi asks. It’s not like him to get impatient. Kunimi flinches at his outburst. “Is it blackmail, or-” 

Then finally,  _ finally _ , Iwaizumi puts the pieces together. The real murderer has something over Kunimi. Something so important that Kunimi is willing to take the blame,to take the  _ death sentence _ , to keep them safe. That means that that ‘someone’ is in the murderer’s grasp. That ‘someone’ is with the murderer right this instant.

And the murderer will know if Kunimi has given him away, even at this point in time. 

  
Does that mean that even now, there is some kind of recording device in this room? Is the murderer aware of their every step? Is that why he has been able to keep one step ahead of them the entire time? Was everything planned out in advance? Who is this cunning, ingenious murderer that has eluded them the whole, goddamn time? 

What if these two crimes weren’t the only ones committed by that atrocious murderer? What if the murderer had been involved in…? 

“Oi,” Hanamaki says, pushing the door open. Iwaizumi flinches and immediately taps “Stop” on the recorder. Hanamaki has never been sensitive to the use of the recorder, opting to say whatever he wants. “The customs officer said that Kindaichi never left Seijoh. They checked with the Karasuno-Seijoh, the Seijoh-Nekoma and the Shiratorizawa-Seijoh border officers.”

If the murderer is listening in on their conversation this instant, it is better not to say anything that may give his suspicions away. He would consult Hanamaki when they are outside. “I see.” He turns towards Kunimi and presses the “Start” button once more. “Is there anything else you’d like to add?” 

“No, none,” Kunimi says, hanging his head. “Sorry, Cap.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond to that. Instead, he says, “This concludes the interview with Kunimi Akira. End time, 4:07pm.”

With that, Iwaizumi turns, unable to face Kunimi. Someone who had abetted a criminal. However, he does feel a stab of pity for his situation. Would he have done it too if he is in Kunimi’s shoes? Oikawa’s grinning face flashes into his mind’s eye. 

Iwaizumi hates himself for it, but he decides that he probably would.

*

“So you think that Kindaichi had been kidnapped, and the real murderer is trying to get Kunimi to do whatever he wants,” Hanamaki says. He swirls his drink with his straw. “So that means the murderer must have gotten close to Kunimi at some point in time.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Iwaizumi says, shovelling some beef into his mouth. “And that Kunimi knew the murderer was listening. He refused to divulge any information.”

“He knew? Does that mean that he knows the murderer planted some listening device or something?” Hanamaki says. “Just saying, we went through his clothes and all and didn’t find anything.”

“Could it be a member of the force? If someone rigged the Interrogation Room, it would have to be one of the officers,” Iwaizumi says. He finishes up his food, placing both knife and fork onto the plate. Hanamaki follows suit, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. 

“You don’t say,” Hanamaki says, sipping his ice lemon tea. He calls for the waitress to ask for their desserts. The waitress returns with a plate of cream puffs and a chocolate sundae. They dig in. “But who’d you suspect, though? If he’s close to Kunimi, it would have to be one of our officers.”

Is he ready to suspect another of their officers? It’s not like their department is very big. Aside from Kindaichi and Kunimi, Iwaizumi and Hanamaki, there is Matsukawa, Yahaba and Kyoutani. Seven of them in total. He knows that Kunimi is already guilty of being an accomplice, while Kindaichi is probably being held hostage somewhere. Iwaizumi knows that he himself is not the killer, of course, unless this is some Jekyll-and-Hyde phenomenon ( _ which is utterly ridiculous _ , Iwaizumi thinks). That leaves Hanamaki, Matsukawa, Yahaba and Kyoutani. Iwaizumi had worked with Matsukawa and Hanamaki ever since he’d been transferred to this department...could they have done it? Probably not.

That leaves Yahaba and Kyoutani. Yahaba is always so bright and cheerful, only turning serious when he has to be. Kyoutani, on the other hand, is on the opposite end of the spectrum. Iwaizumi has never seen so much as a smile on his face as he works. 

Could either of them have done it? But why would they? What was the motive? Why kill Irihata? Why frame Watari Shinji? Why, why, why?

“Chill, Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki says, placing a hand on Iwaizumi’s forearm. “You look like you’re gonna kill somebody. Not that you’re going to.” He adds the last part hastily. “We’ve just got to investigate each person all stealthily, right? See whether any of them turn up suspicious.”

“How do I know?” Iwaizumi says, letting his gaze dart about, staring everywhere but at Hanamaki. “How do I know that you’re not actually the murderer and that you’re not lying to me?”

Hanamaki falls silent. “I guess...we don’t, huh.” 

  
“If this real murderer, if he even exists, is someone from our department, we have to suspect everybody. Everyone’s guilty till proven innocent,” Iwaizumi says. “It could be me. It could be you. It could be Matsukawa” - Hanamaki stiffens at that - “or it could be Yahaba or Kyoutani.” 

“You’re right,” Hanamaki says. He drags a hand across his face, wiping off the white cream from the corner of his mouth. “Shit. If this gets out, our whole department will turn on itself.”

Iwaizumi hums. Five people suspecting each other. And any one of the five can be the murderer. Makes for a great detective novel. Except, it isn’t one. 

Their next course of action would be to find any traces of Kindaichi at all - Iwaizumi figures that knowing Kindaichi’s movements before his disappearance may bring them closer to finding him, and finding the true murderer along with him.

“Your jacket,” Hanamaki says, gesturing to the cyan-and-white Aoba Johsai jacket that Iwaizumi almost forgot, draped innocently on the backrest of the chair. Iwaizumi retrieves it and slips it on, and the two venture out into the streets of Seijoh in the midst of autumn. 

*

“Are you still thinking about work, Iwa-chan?”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi replies flatly. He is in no mood for any of Oikawa’s antics right now. Oikawa drapes himself over Iwaizumi, nuzzling his nose into Iwaizumi’s hair. 

“You’re so tense. Want me to give you a massage?”

“No thanks,” Iwaizumi says. He cringes at the sharpness of his reply. Oikawa had just been worried. He curses internally. “Sorry,” he says, looking up at Oikawa’s hurt expression and guilt sends his stomach plummeting again. “I just...there’s been a lot of pressure lately.”

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“It’s just…the murderer isn’t Kunimi,” Iwaizumi says, running a hand through his hair, “and I arrested the wrong person. Again.” He leans back, tilting his head so that he faces the ceiling, or rather, faces Oikawa, who presses a kiss to his forehead. His lips are soft, Iwaizumi thinks. He can easily melt from one kiss alone.

“It was an honest mistake, right?” Oikawa says, smiling. “Don’t worry too much about it. If you want, I can make you feel much, much better.”

“Yah, I need to work,” Iwaizumi grumbles, but he is laughing as Oikawa pecks his cheek again. Just seeing Oikawa makes his day so much better.

“Fine, but you’d better compensate me when you’re done,” Oikawa says, grinning. “I’m staying over, by the way.” 

  
“Sure.”

Iwaizumi turns back to his work. They had found nothing. Kindaichi had mysteriously disappeared, leaving no traces. Even Kunimi refuses to speak about the matter. The real killer is playing this game so masterfully that it makes Iwaizumi’s head spin. 

Hanamaki has not made any headway regarding that flower shop stabbing nor the Matsukawa incident either. Kai had left sometime ago, headed back to the Nekoma region, apologising that he had caused Iwaizumi trouble and that he couldn’t stay longer. Iwaizumi had dismissed his apology, saying that they’d see each other again someday, when things weren’t in such a dismal state. 

Iwaizumi gives up when the clock reads 2am. He switches the lights off, and moves to brush his teeth. When he returns, Oikawa is still awake, watching with bright, feline-like eyes as he walks over to his closet, prepared to take out the futon. 

“Hey, sleep here,” Oikawa says, smiling, lifting the covers. “It wouldn’t be unlike when we were kids. We’re a couple now.”

A couple. That sounds right. Iwaizumi gives up on the futon and sleepily shuffles over to where Oikawa is, crawling into bed and curling up beside him. Oikawa is warm. Warm and huggable. 

Within seconds, Iwaizumi is asleep, listening to Oikawa’s heartbeat, arms wound tight around his best-friend-turned-lover.


	7. Chapter 6

Oikawa is making him breakfast when he awakens. The smell of congee is in the air. He rises, yawning, and makes for the bathroom to wash up. His facial hair is getting rather long, he notices, as he looks in the mirror with half-lidded eyes. He should shave soon. 

“Breakfast is almost ready, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa calls from the kitchenette. Iwaizumi half-yawns, half-yells a reply. He changes into his white, collared shirt and a red tie, then heads back out into the only other room, the living room, where they, or rather, Iwaizumi, eats. Oikawa just takes a few sips because Iwaizumi forces him to. 

“You have training today?” 

  
“Yeah,” Oikawa nods. “They have an inter-school training camp coming up. It would be really intense this year. Shiratorizawa High is coming down.”

“Wow. To Aoba Johsai?” Iwaizumi asks. 

“Yeah. For the first time in forever,” Oikawa says. “Remember how we hated their guts? And friggin Ushiwaka?”

Ushijima Wakatoshi is not a name that is erased easily from Iwaizumi’s mind. He was the one who had taken away their acceptance into the Nationals back when  _ they  _ were in their final year in Aoba Johsai. It had been a bitter defeat when Ushijima Wakatoshi had spiked that last ball straight past their blockers. Till this day, Iwaizumi can still hear the resounding thud of the volleyball hitting the floor of the court, and the shattering of the hopes and dreams of every single one of the Aoba Johsai players.

Oikawa had shut himself into his room for days after that, to the point where Iwaizumi had gotten worried and went to check up on him. 

As it turned out, Oikawa had sustained a knee injury, and was unable to walk for a while. Iwaizumi had taken it upon himself to care for his best friend, bringing him his homework and talking about happenings in school and with the team and about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Was it then that he noticed that he had feelings for Oikawa? It feels so long ago, especially since Iwaizumi had gone off to the Nekoma region to further his studies on police work and came back to find that Oikawa has gone on to become a coach for the Aoba Johsai team, as well as several other schools in the Seijoh region.

“Earth to Iwa-chan,” Oikawa singsongs, waving a hand in front of his face. “You’re not still thinking about Ushiwaka, right? Or I might be jealous!” 

“I was thinking about you,” Iwaizumi says, and while his toes curl cringing at his own words, Oikawa squeals and throws his arms around Iwaizumi, nearly choking the life out of him. 

  
“So cute, Iwa-chan! And here I thought you were just a brute!” Oikawa grins, earning a smack from Iwaizumi upside the head. “So mean, Iwa-chan!”

“Anyway, I’ve got to get to work.” 

“But you’re supposed to be off-duty today. It’s Saturday, Iwa-chan!” 

“I…” Iwaizumi swallows uncomfortably. As much as he wants to spend the day with Oikawa, lazing about and thinking about their future together or something, the cases still weigh heavily on his mind. 

“Don’t you want to spend time with me? I even got us tickets to the amusement park!”

The amusement park. A date. Oikawa is always full of surprises, it seems. 

“Well, I guess it can’t be helped,” Iwaizumi says. He’d text Hanamaki to organise a search party for Kindaichi and to try to narrow down a suspect for that flower shop murder case. At least find some conclusive evidence or something.

“Who are you texting?” Oikawa asks, leaning over Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

“Huh? Hanamaki,” Iwaizumi replies absently. He finishes up his message and presses “Send”. 

“Oh, is it that guy that was all over you?” 

“All over me? No,” Iwaizumi says, shaking his head as he pockets his phone. “We just worked on a couple of cases together. The only one who has been all over me is you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says. “Neverland, was it?”

“How’d you know?” Oikawa grins widely. “Iwa-chan! So perceptive!”

“Dumbass. Stop teasing,” Iwaizumi says. He cannot help but smile as well. Neverland is the amusement park that he and Oikawa always visit after examinations when they were in middle school up till high school. Even after they had graduated, Iwaizumi still came back during the holidays and they made sure to go to Neverland together.

“Come on, let’s go,” Iwaizumi says. He grabs his jacket and puts it on. Oikawa smiles, slipping into his own hoodie, and they head out. 

*

At this time of the year, there are barely any people around. Students are at school and most adults are working. There appear to be more tourists than Seijoh citizens this time around. 

They go on most of the rides, rollercoasters and all. Iwaizumi doesn’t remember Oikawa being this enthusiastic about fast rides, though. They do go on slower ones, Oikawa especially loving the swan boat ride around a large castle. 

“Your phone keeps ringing,” Oikawa notices halfway through lunch. “You should switch it off.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Iwaizumi says. He sets it to mute and places it back in his pocket. Oikawa has a point. It’s his off-day, after all. 

They eat character-based foods, hotdogs and popcorn and buy weird hair bands and play carnival games. Oikawa even won them a giant Godzilla plush, which he naturally gifts to Iwaizumi. They wander around for a bit more till their legs are aching. 

“I love Ferris Wheels,” Oikawa says, smiling as they get in the car. “The circular motion...the mechanics...they’re like collections of elegant formulas.”

“Really now?” Iwaizumi says, smiling a little because it is unlike Oikawa to sound so philosophical. “I thought you were more of the feelings-type.”

“Yeah,” Oikawa nods, “but there’s just something about Ferris Wheels that make it special, don’t you think?”

The car begins to ascend, pausing at regular intervals. 

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, leaning forward and taking Iwaizumi’s hand. Iwaizumi gulps, heat rising in his cheeks. “You know that I love you, right?”

What’s with this question all of a sudden? “Yeah, I do. Why’d you ask?”

Oikawa smiles shyly. Iwaizumi’s heart leaps. “Nothing. Just wanted to hear you say it. That’s all.” 

“Well then, how about this? I love you, Oikawa Tooru.”

This time, Oikawa blushes, face going a dark red visible even in the horrible lighting. Feeling bold, Iwaizumi leans forward and captures Oikawa’s lips in a messy clash of teeth and tongue. Iwaizumi’s heartbeat races as Oikawa takes over, pushing Iwaizumi against the seat of the cable car, straddling him, taking his face in both of his hands and kissing him senseless.

When they break away, a thin string of saliva connects their swollen lips. Oikawa is looking down at him with hooded eyes, cheeks crimson. Both are panting, pulses racing, entranced in a moment of magic. 

As if on cue, fireworks begin to burst in a plethora of bright colours, splashing flowers in the black of the night sky. It provides the perfect background for Iwaizumi to see Oikawa’s face illuminated in sporadic flashes of light. 

In that moment, Iwaizumi thinks, as he leans in for another kiss, Oikawa is the most beautiful human being in the entire world.

*

Oikawa sleeps over at his place again. Iwaizumi finally has the chance to check his messages. When he boots the phone up again, messages from LINE keep pouring in like nobody’s business. There are at least a hundred from Hanamaki, then some missed calls from Matsukawa.

  
Iwaizumi is lying if he says that he does not feel slightly guilty, even though today was supposed to be his day off. He takes a deep breath, opens LINE and looks at Hanamaki’s chat; the messages are in order of increasing intensity. 

Iwaizumi, there has been another assault.

  
Iwaizumi! Why aren’t you picking up! 

Kyoutani nearly died! Text me back ASAP! 

FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! KUNIMI FUCKING ESCAPED! 

Iwaizumi’s blood runs cold. Kyoutani? What does he have to do with all this? And Kunimi? Escaped? How? His stomach drops. Whatever elation he had felt dissipates completely. Shit! Shit, shit, shit! 

Iwaizumi stands abruptly, glancing at the clock. It is nearly eleven, and Oikawa is already sound asleep. He rushes out into the living room, changing into office wear and throwing on his Aoba Johsai jacket. If he remembers right, Kyoutani and Hanamaki are supposed to be on night shift today, but with Kyoutani out of the question…

Iwaizumi calls the department’s landline. 

“Hello? Please tell us your emergenc-” 

“Hanamaki-!” 

There is a period of silence on the other end. Then Hanamaki shrieks in his ear. “Iwaizumi! Where the hell were you? Kyoutani’s been shot, and Kunimi’s escaped and-!” He sounds like he is hyperventilating on the other end. “Please get here quickly!”

Iwaizumi gulps. “The station?” 

“Yeah! Kunimi that fucking piece of shit!” 

  
Iwaizumi hangs up. He begins to run, breathing painful in the cold autumn air, almost transitioning to winter. THe police station is just a few blocks down. Iwaizumi pants harshly as he throws the door open, revealing Hanamaki seated at his desk, speaking with Matsukawa, leaning against the table.

Both look up at his arrival. 

“Matsukawa? What are you doing here?” Iwaizumi asks, grabbing his knees, trying to catch his breath. 

“Vice-captain duties,” Matsukawa replies simply. “Sorry for calling you back while you’re on your leave, Iwaizumi, but this is a serious problem. Kunimi had a gun on him.”

“A...gun?” 

“That’s what the officer said. The officer who was attacked, that is,” Matsukawa says, scratching his head. Kunimi waited till the guard came with his food, then threatened him with a gun to the head.” 

“I thought he was patted down from top to bottom?”

“Yes, that’s what I heard too, but he still managed to conceal it somewhere,” Matsukawa says. “I don’t know how he did it, but the fact remains that Kunimi managed to shoot Kyoutani. One shot, straight to the chest. He is currently being treated at the Central Hospital.”

“That son of a bitch!” Hanamaki shouts. “He must be the real killer, Iwaizumi! The whole other killer thing is totally made up!” 

“Calm down, Makki,” Matsukawa says, placing a hand on Hanamaki’s shoulder. Hanamaki continues to breathe heavily, but glares at the floor. Matsukawa turns to Iwaizumi. “I am not entirely certain as to the details of this...other killer that Makki has been mentioning. Am I wrong to assume that you have an inkling?”

Another killer...was there no other killer after all? Did Kunimi plot the whole thing? Have some sort of deep-seated grudge or secret motive that they don’t know of? Iwaizumi wants to bury his head in his hands and scream his lungs out, but all he croaks out is, “Did you organise a manhunt yet?”

“Of course we did,” Matsukawa says, staring at Iwaizumi incredulously, as if the latter didn’t trust him to do his job. “Right now, they’re scouring the city for him, led by Yahaba. It won’t be long before we find him.”

“God, I hope so,” Hanamaki says, rubbing at his temples. “So, Iwaizumi. Think there’s still this real killer out there?”

All the facts point to it. It is the only thing that can explain the recording devices they had found, Kindaichi’s disappearance, Kunimi’s behaviour-

Kunimi’s behaviour. 

What if Kunimi’s jailbreak now is connected to the murderer? Does that mean that the murderer has been able to communicate with Kunimi, even when the latter is in detention? Just how does that work? And where did Kunimi hide the gun? 

Think, Iwaizumi, think! He squeezes his eyes shut, drawing a picture in his head. Kunimi’s face appears, a gun in his hand, a terrified expression on his face. Suppose that the real murderer had been able to communicate with Kunimi in detention. That would mean that there was either some sort of communication device somewhere on Kunimi’s body, or that someone had paid Kunimi a visit through the glass panel.

If Kunimi had been able to sneak a gun into the detention centre, then that would mean that he could have snuck a communication device in - no biggie. Moreover, if he had been visited by the real murderer, their conversation would have been overheard by the guard - all conversations between felons and visitors are monitored, after all, by a guard physically present in the room. 

Then, where could Kunimi have hidden it? Clearly not somewhere obvious. Not somewhere where the police officers would have thought of looking. Not in pockets, not in socks and boots...then…

Iwaizumi’s eyes snap open. “His fucking clothes. Hanamaki! He hid the gun and the communication device in his clothes!”

“In his clothes? We patted him do-”   
  


“I mean, in the fabric between his clothes!” Iwaizumi says, taking off his Aoba Johsai jacket and throwing it at Hanamaki. It lands in a pool of cloth on Hanamaki’s lap. “It’s just like my jacket! There are two layers of fabric, and Kunimi hid the two items in his! He probably lined his jacket with cotton - we wouldn’t have been able to detect it ‘cause it’ll feel like a normal jacket!”

“So, you’re saying that -” Matsukawa starts, but Iwaizumi cuts him off with a raised hand. This is not the only mystery he has to solve. 

Now, why did Kunimi escape? Given that he was able to communicate with the murderer through the communication device - probably a microphone and a receiver of some sort - stuck in his clothes, the murderer probably goaded him into breaking out of the detention centre. This would mean that the murderer has something and is coercing Kunimi to do outrageous things. Iwaizumi has deduced that the murderer is controlling Kunimi through Kindaichi, which would mean that Kindaichi is in the murderer’s hands. 

Did the murderer threaten Kindaichi? Is that why Kunimi broke out of the detention centre? But wouldn’t that be a problem for the murderer? The murderer must have needed Kunimi to be the fall guy - that’s why he got Kunimi forcibly arrested in the first place by making sure his face was caught on camera after breaking into Iwaizumi’s apartment. 

Does that mean that this time, Kunimi acted out of his own volition? Then that would very likely mean that…

The murderer must have threatened to kill Kindaichi. It is the only possible explanation, seeing as the murderer would need to dispose of Kindaichi since the former has no more use for him. Why did he see the need to tell Kunimi then? 

  
Because he knows that Kunimi would act this way. He knows that Kunimi would attempt to save Kindaichi. Now Kunimi’s sentence is even heavier - accomplice to two first-degree murders and jailbreak. If he’s caught, there is no chance of parole. The murderer is trying to seal Kunimi’s fate while getting rid of Kindaichi at the same time. 

And Kunimi should be searching for Kindaichi right at this very instant. 

But Kunimi does not know where Kindaichi is...or does he? What is the probability that he does know? Does that mean that the murderer is with Kindaichi all the time, ready to act at a moment’s notice in case Kunimi betrays him? In that case, wouldn’t the murderer already have…

Oh Lord. Despair’s thin, bony fingers clutch at Iwaizumi. His body freezes and his heart pumps wildly. What kind of a fucking Captain is he when nearly half his department has died in the past two weeks? 

Two firm hands grasp his shoulder, shaking him violently, and Iwaizumi looks up into Matsukawa’s stern gaze. He’s not glaring, but Lord, does Matsukawa look scary. “Captain, do you have an idea where Kunimi may be?” Hanamaki is silent, looking ready to beat the hell out of someone. 

Iwaizumi’s teeth chatter, partly because of the adrenaline and lack of sleep and partly because he just wants to scream at the world. Why? Why do all these things keep happening to him?

Why him? Why…?

Something clicks in Iwaizumi’s brain. It is such a minute possibility, something so far-fetched yet it seems so plausible.

Why does everything bad keep happening to him? First, the murder of Irihata Nobuteru, Iwaizumi’s landlord, then the wrongful arrests of Watari Shinji and Nobuyuki Kai, the latter being Iwaizumi’s roommate from college, then Matsukawa’s assault. Matsukawa, who has been Iwaizumi’s vice-captain. He had been attacked the day after they met. Then, the break-in, then the issue with Kunimi and Kindaichi, and both of them had been his subordinates. Kyoutani who is also Iwaizumi’s subordinate, was just nearly killed by Kunimi.

  
Is Iwaizumi the target after all? Was he just too fucking dense to see it? 

“Iwaizumi, calm down,” Hanamaki says. The air is tense. Iwaizumi grabs the edge of Hanamaki’s desk to steady himself. His knees have grown weak. “You’re having a panic attack.”

“What? No I’m not,” Iwaizumi grunts, “I just...I have this impossible theory-” 

“Is it going to bring us one step closer to finding Kunimi? And your mystery serial killer?” Matsukawa asks. There is no humour in his tone. Only seriousness and confidence. 

“Probably yes to both,” Iwaizumi mumbles. 

“Right then,” Matsukawa says. He jabs at Iwaizumi with a finger and Iwaizumi finds it rather embarrassing that he topples right into a chair. Hanamaki hands him a water bottle. It is scary just how coordinated they are.

Matsukawa himself pulls Yahaba’s chair over. “Drink if you need to. Let’s hear it, Iwaizumi. Your impossible theory.”

*

It is not impossible, Matsukawa tells Iwaizumi after he speaks for a whole ten minutes, explaining each and every detail which led him to this conclusion. Iwaizumi takes a swig from Hanamaki’s water bottle, relishing in the taste of the liquid. It is not impossible at all. 

“Watari Shinji was probably merely there to be a scapegoat - someone convenient that was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, or the right place and right time, for the murderer,” Matsukawa says. “The real target must have been your landlord.”

“But why would anyone kill him? It wasn’t as if I was particularly close to him or anything. Hell, I hated his guts!” Iwaizumi mutters. 

“Maybe that’s why,” Matsukawa says, understanding in his voice. “Someone killed him because you hated him.”

“What? Why?” 

“I don’t know,” Matsukawa says. “Although, that theory falls apart if you consider the flower shop murder and your apartment break-in and Kunimi’s betrayal.”

“Or the attack on Mattsun,” Hanamaki says begrudgingly. Matsukawa places a hand over Hanamaki’s, squeezing lightly. 

“It’s not like you hate us. Unless there’s something we’re missing,” Matsukawa says, holding up a finger. Iwaizumi shakes his head vehemently.

“As if I could hate any of you,” Iwaizumi breathes. “Good Lord, you’ve been my partners since we were rookies.”

“I hoped to hear that,” Matsukawa says, smiling. “Look, is there anyone that you can think of-” 

“Wait, holy fuck!” Iwaizumi leaps to his feet. “What if the killer is killing people close to me? Maybe they didn’t know my shitty relationship with Irihata. Maybe they’re just targeting people that I’ve come into contact with…! That means-! Oikawa’s in fucking danger!”

Hanamaki’s eyes go wide. Iwaizumi grabs his cell phone from his pocket and dials Oikawa’s number. There is a dial tone. Then, after three rings, Oikawa picks up, his voice heavy with sleep. 

“Hello? Iwa-chan? What’s...up?”

“Oh my God,” Iwaizumi sinks to his knees. Oikawa’s sweet voice is melting away the throbbing of his heart. “Oh my God. You’re safe. Holy shit…” He cannot stop the welling of tears in his eyes. Those thirty seconds of panic makes him a crybaby. Holy crap. Praise the Lord. Oikawa is alive…

“Iwa-chan? Are you okay?” Oikawa sounds alarmed on the other end. “Hello? Iwa-chan?” 

“Yes, I’m...I’m fine. Sorry for waking you up” - he glances at the clock on the wall - “at like, four in the morning.” 

“‘S fine. I’m coming to find you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says. “See you soon. We can eat breakfast together.”

“I...see you,” Iwaizumi croaks out. He brings a hand up to wipe at his eyes. Lord, Oikawa’s emotional personality is rubbing off on him. He shoves the phone in his pocket. Hanamaki and Matsukawa exchange glances. Iwaizumi ignores it. “Where...were we?”

“So he’s fine, then?” Hanamaki says.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi nods. “I...I think....thank the Lord the killer didn’t get to him. He’s coming down to the station.”

“I see,” Hanamaki nods. Matsukawa furrows his brows. Their suspicious gazes send a shiver of uneasiness through Iwaizumi. What do they know that he doesn’t?

“Oikawa’s the guy you like, right? The one you have a crush on?” Matsukawa asks. That’s right. Iwaizumi hasn’t said anything about them getting together yet. 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi nods. “I mean, I did. We’re together now.”

“Oh,” Hanamaki nods. “Congratulations.” He says it with such a solemn voice that on any other occasion, Iwaizumi would have found it funny. 

  
“Anyway, Iwaizumi, can you think of anyone who is-” 

The door to the station opens with a jingle of the bell. Oikawa is standing there, panting, phone in hand, dressed in a loose T-shirt and a pair of khaki trousers, both borrowed from Iwaizumi’s closet.

  
“Iwa-chan!” 

Iwaizumi notices how Hanamaki’s expression goes cold. Matsukawa also stares, wide-eyed. 

“Iwa-chan! Why did you leave without telling me?” Oikawa asks. There is an edge to his voice. Nearly imperceptible. Iwaizumi chalks it up to his adrenaline rush. 

“I’m sorry, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, standing. “I had to leave. I heard one of my subordinates-”

“Iwaizumi! Get away from him!” Hanamaki shouts. Matsukawa whips out his gun, pointed straight at Oikawa. Iwaizumi is tugged backwards, landing straight in Hanamaki’s lap. Surprised, Iwaizumi splutters as he attempts to pick himself up. Oikawa has his hands raised in surrender, a shocked expression on his face. 

“What the hell, Makki!” Iwaizumi glares at Matsukawa. “And you too! What the hell’s gotten into you two?!”    
  


“Spill the beans,” Matsukawa says, ignoring Iwaizumi. “You’re the killer, aren’t you?”

There is silence for the longest time. Neither party moves. 

“Oikawa! Say something!” Iwaizumi shouts. Again, panic and desperation rises in his chest. His heart beats erratically. “Oikawa!” 

Oikawa’s expression slowly transits from his faked shock to a mischievous smile. Iwaizumi’s heart drops. 

“I expected nothing less of the Seijoh police department.”

A gunshot rings out. Someone screams. Blood splatters onto Iwaizumi’s face and hair. Another scream. A patter of footsteps. Another gunshot. An arm locks around Iwaizumi’s neck, pulling him to his feet, dragging him towards the door. Air, goddamn it! Air! He can’t breathe! Iwaizumi chokes, gasping, as he struggles valiantly yet futilely against the force holding him. Warm, vanilla-scented…

“I’m going to take you away, Iwa-chan. Somewhere where no one would ever find us.”

Oikawa’s silky voice is the last thing Iwaizumi hears before his eyes roll back into his head and he falls limp in Oikawa’s arms.


	8. Chapter 7

When Iwaizumi awakens, he’s bound tightly to a chair, ropes cutting into his skin. He’s in a dark room that smells oddly familiar. Vanilla. God, now he knows why it feels so painful. He is naked from the waist up.

“What the actual...fuck,” he mutters. He’s so glad that the room has a functioning heater. Imagine being buck naked at the end of autumn other than being in a hot shower. He can barely move. He looks around, surveying the room. Nothing of particular interest except a metallic shelf with several boxes. In the dimness of the room, he can barely read the messy, familiar handwriting on one of them: “Oikawa’s playthings. Don’t touch!” 

Oikawa.

That’s right. His memory is fuzzy, but Iwaizumi can remember the events clear as day. Oikawa had been held at gunpoint. Did Matsukawa fire that shot? Did Oikawa somehow grab him and make a run for it? Yeah he must have, if Iwaizumi somehow ended up here.

Now, he thinks to himself, how do I get out?

Naturally, his pockets have been emptied, and he lacks all his belongings. The only thing he has with him are his pants (thank the Lord for that) and his Aoba Johsai jacket pooled around his feet. If he can squirm a little...nah, the ropes are tied too tightly for that. 

The door swings open and Iwaizumi squints in the glare of the light. 

“Oikawa!” 

Oikawa is carrying a tray of food. Soup and toast, from the smell. He places the tray on the ground, beside the chair Iwaizumi is bound to. Oikawa squats such that he is at Iwaizumi’s eye level. 

“Iwa-chan, you’re so pretty,” Oikawa croons. He reaches out to touch Iwaizumi’s face, but Iwaizumi snarls at him, turning his head away. Oikawa doesn’t give up. He slides the palm of his hand along Iwaizumi’s cheek. Iwaizumi hisses as if burned.

“You fucker,” Iwaizumi snaps. The betrayal stings, like pinpricks dancing across his skin. “You...How dare you!” How could Oikawa do this? Oikawa Tooru, the boy whom he had grown up with, played volleyball with, went home and watched matches and Skyped and met up for Neverland visits…Memories of good old times flashes through Iwaizumi’s head. Oikawa, the buck-toothed boy who hadn’t any friends till Iwaizumi, who had grown up to be so popular in the school that girls and boys alike threw themselves at his feet. 

Oikawa, who had worked himself to the bone trying to beat their arch nemesis back when they were in their third year of high school. Oikawa, who had said that he loved him, back on the Ferris Wheel.

“Iwa-chan! So rude!” Oikawa hums, the predatory smile not leaving his face as he presses open-mouthed kisses to Iwaizumi’s cheek. Even the insult now sounds like a jab to his side. A sharp one. Iwaizumi physically reels, but is once again restrained by ropes. “You don’t see it now, Iwa-chan, but you will in time. We’ll be so happy together. Just you and me. We’ll go far, far away. Someplace where no one can interfere with this. With us.”

“No! What the actual fuck? Screw you,” Iwaizumi shouts. He wants to kick Oikawa, punch him and wipe that smirk off his face. 

Oikawa tries feeding him food next, and despite Iwaizumi’s growling stomach, he refuses to eat. Eventually, Oikawa gives up and leaves the food on the shelf. Seemingly dejected, he leaves the room, locking it behind him. 

Iwaizumi leans back against the chair, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. Who knows what the hell Oikawa intends to do with him. How the hell...how did he get himself into his mess in the first place?

Deep in his heart, Iwaizumi prays that Hanamaki and Matsukawa have started a search for him. He prays fervently, as helplessness forces him to dip his head, willing himself not to cry out of despair.

*

“That’s three today.”

Yahaba is sitting by Kyoutani’s bedside, wondering just how long he’d take to awaken. Call him impatient, but Yahaba just cannot sit still knowing that Kyoutani is on the verge of death. The other person lying on the bed behind him is watched over by another officer. Kindaichi Yuutarou.

Yahaba closes his eyes, remembering the moment they had managed to trail Kunimi, the slippery eel managing to make it to a run-down apartment - his own apartment - leading them straight to Kindaichi Yuutarou. Kindaichi had been in horrible shape - limbs and torso as thin as sticks, sporting the palest face Yahaba has ever seen, lying stock still, barely alive beneath a blanket. 

They had Kindaichi moved to the hospital immediately. Kunimi had willingly turned himself in, a red, puffy face full of tears of sheer relief and terror at the same time. Yahaba had refused to let him ride in the ambulance with Kindaichi, but at the very least, promises to tell him if Kindaichi wakes up. 

The third was not even a casualty. It was a fatality. Yahaba looks up at the man who had spoken. Matsukawa Issei, the vice-captain. His voice is completely emotionless, as is his expression. If Kyoutani pulls through, Yahaba may never understand his sense of loss. Yahaba does not know what to say.

“Are you leading the manhunt, Cap?”

Matsukawa looks down at him. “Yes. Something like that.” No emotion. “The funeral is in a week, Yahaba.”

“I...Thank you for letting me know,” Yahaba says, swallowing. 

Matsukawa turns to leave. “Inform me if there are any developments. If either of them wakes up.”

Yahaba salutes him and Matsukawa Issei disappears out the door. Yahaba had heard about it, the shooting that took place right there in Department 14’s precinct. One fatality. A bullet to the head. The Cap was taken and now they’ve organised a large-scale search party and manhunt for Iwaizumi Hajime and Oikawa Tooru respectively.

Yahaba clenches the white sheets of Kyoutani’s bedsheets in his fists. He sniffles away the tears as the full force of whatever had happened hit him full-on. He buries his face in the bedsheets and sobs.

*

If there is one person Matsukawa cannot forgive, it is the man named Oikawa Tooru. His eyes sting, even as he downs another cup of coffee.  _ His _ favourite. God, Matsukawa cannot even bring himself to think his name. It is a warm, fluffy feeling whenever Matsukawa has the chance to hold him, but not that time. Not when he was lying in his arms, bleeding out from a shot to the head, life extinguished in an instant.

He turns his attention back to the computer screen, attempting to stuff informatio into his head for the third time that morning. Born in the Seijoh region. Lived with his parents. An older sister that moved away to the other side of Seijoh with her husband. Has a nephew. Attended Kitakawa Daiichi - Seijoh campus during his elementary and middle school years. Then he attended Aoba Johsai High School and Seijoh Sports School. He studied sports science. He played volleyball all his life. Has constant interaction with Iwaizumi Hajime until Iwaizumi moved to Nekoma for a short period of time. Fond of extreme sports. Started attending rock climbing classes since he graduated from college. He mainly coaches Aoba Johsai High School’s volleyball club now. 

History of mental illness: depression, at one point in life during his high school years. Matsukawa commits the date of diagnosis to memory. It may come in useful later. History of physical injuries and hospital visits. A couple of hospital visits for normal things like jaundice when he was a child and for vaccinations. Only one instance stands out, when he was in his third year of high school, Oikawa had suffered a horrible knee injury while playing volleyball. Matsukawa stares at the date of the visit and time he stayed in the hospital. It nearly coincided with the time he had gotten diagnosed for depression. Did Iwaizumi know about this? 

Iwaizumi’s guess had been on the mark. He was the target all along and it was Oikawa all along who had been pulling all the strings. They managed to locate his residence and had dug around in his apartment for clues. Unfortunately, Oikawa had been too careful and left nearly nothing behind besides a few pieces of furniture and a pair of slippers. As well as a bag of recording devices and tracking devices. It must have been this.

It had been too convenient for Oikawa to have guessed that Iwaizumi had been at the station. At no instance in their conversation over the phone did Iwaizumi mention that he had gone to the station, and yet Oikawa knew. Somehow. That was when alarm bells started ringing in his head, even though Iwaizumi had been too blind to notice, too in love to realise.

It had been a fatal mistake. As much as Matsukawa wanted to blame Oikawa, he cannot do so entirely. Guilt weighs a part of him down. He should have done something. Anything. If he had, Taka- _ he  _ wouldn’t have died. 

Well, the only good thing that came about because of this is that Kindaichi was found. They would need to take his statements when he woke up. Matsukawa slams the lid of his laptop down. There are only a few places where Oikawa could have gone to. A couple of abandoned warehouses near Matsukawa’s house, or perhaps somewhere underground? There is a train station that has been unused for a couple of years - its entrance was never removed but boarded up to prevent people from entering.

Would Oikawa really be so predictable? He had eluded them for at least two weeks now, or even more, given that he was the murderer in that Irihata-stabbing case. 

“You should take a break.”

Matsukawa whirls around, spinning on the chair. He swore that he heard Takahiro’s voice. It must just be his imagination. No, Takahiro cannot still be alive after that...that…He grunts in pure frustration. He wants to throw something. Anything.

In a fit of madness, Matsukawa grabs the laptop and hurls it to the ground, watching in satisfactory rage as the electronic device breaks apart, components flying everywhere, red and blue wires now exposed. Before he knows what is happening, his fingers close in on a handful of papers and files. He tears them, letting pieces and bits of paper flutter to the ground like dead butterflies.

Matsukawa bangs his fist angrily on his desk, again and again, somewhat comforted by the fact that there is no one around to see him lose his shit. 

One shattered phone, a cracked penholder, a couple of scattered pens and a broken CPU later, Matsukawa finally sinks back into his chair, utterly exhausted. He buries his face in his hands, sighing deeply. Even if he wants to cry, no tears come. His eyes are totally dry as dry can be. 

God, what he would give to have Takahiro back.

Sitting around and destroying his office isn’t going to help anyone. Not Hanamaki Takahiro, not Yahaba Shigeru, and most of all, not Iwaizumi Hajime. Who knows where he’s gotten himself stashed away now? 

“You look like shit, Mattsun.”

“Stop it!” Matsukawa shouts. He slams his forehead against the desk. This pain is nothing. Nothing compared to…

“Seriously, Mattsun. You’d better rest. You’re not going to get anything done this way.”

“You’re dead!” Matsukawa yells. “You’re fucking dead! Stop talking to me! Just stop it!” The outburst leaves him out of breath. Matsukawa grasps the edge of his desk. The sting of where he had struck his head against the table dulls into a throb. Maybe this is a fucking dream. Maybe he would wake up next to Takahiro. He’d prepare breakfast for the two of them. They’d rush to work together, dishevelled and possibly in inappropriate attire. They’d get yelled at by Iwaizumi and laughed at by Yahaba and the rest of the office. 

He is interrupted from his trance by the relentless buzzing of his phone. Matsukawa snatches it up to find Yahaba calling. 

“What’s the status report?” Matsukawa asks, hating how his voice cracked. He isn’t sure Yahaba noticed.

“Kindaichi’s awake. Not in good health, but awake, if you wanna ask him anything.”

“I...I’ll head down now.”

“You don’t sound too good, Vice-Cap,” Yahaba says. “Take care, alright?”

“Yeah,” Matsukawa says, hand moving to wipe away a stray tear. “I will.”

*

When Matsukawa enters the room, Kyoutani is still unconscious, but Kindaichi is awake. Matsukawa averts his eyes from the many, many machines that Kindaichi is hooked up to. 

“Cap,” Kindaichi begins weakly. His throat is dry, voice hoarse. 

“Just say what you need to. No more than necessary,” Matsukawa says. “I only have a couple of questions. Can you describe where you were confined?”

Kindaichi pauses for the longest time before answering, “I was blindfolded, so I couldn’t see anything. But I could hear a lot of cars. And people talking sometimes.” 

“Smelled anything?”

“Musky,” Kindaichi says. “Like sweat.” 

Sweat? Why would he smell sweat? 

“What did your captor do?” Matsukawa asks. 

“He didn’t come into the room personally other than to give me water. He didn’t speak at all whenever he’s in the room,” Kindaichi says, a troubled expression on his face. “He spoke with me through a voice changer, though.”

“So he communicated with you from outside the room.”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything else-”

“The people who were speaking. The voices I heard,” Kindaichi rasps, “they were talking...about sports. Abseiling, bouldering, jet skiing, that sort of thing.” 

“I see,” Matsukawa nods. “Thank you, Kindaichi. You can rest now.”

“Was I...any help?” Kindaichi asks. “Sorry, I must have caused...trouble…” 

“You’ve been a great help,” Matsukawa says. “Make a full recovery, Kindaichi, and return to the force as quickly as you can.” He makes towards the door. 

“Yes, of course,” Kindaichi says. “Cap?”

Matsukawa glances back at him. “What is it?”

“Can I...see Kunimi? Please?” 

There is a pang in Matsukawa’s chest as he watches Kindaichi’s expression. What is this familiar feeling? 

“I’ll send him in later. Till then, you should build up your strength,” Matsukawa says, turning his back on them, coat swishing as he disappears through the door. 

*

“Vice-Cap! Is Kindaichi alright-” 

“I don’t think I permitted you to speak, Kunimi.”

Kunimi shrinks back against his seat. Matsukawa sighs. Kunimi looks tired, hair mussed up, with a wrinkled face and hunched shoulders. 

“He’s fine. Just woke up,” Matsukawa says after a long pause. 

Kunimi curls in on himself, shaking, relief flooding his body. Matsukawa forces the sudden anger rising in his chest. On the one hand, he wants Kunimi to feel the pain of loss as much as he had. Kunimi had shot people, had protected a criminal. Matsukawa had been an upstanding citizen of the law. How dare Kunimi feel relieved? How dare he? On the other hand, Matsukawa is angry at himself. He should feel happy for them, for the fact that they are both alive, and that they didn’t lose that one person who is so important to them. 

Matsukawa presses the button on the recorder next to him. “This is Matsukawa Issei, Vice-Captain of Department 14. We are starting the interview with Kunimi Akira. The time now is 7:20am. Please note that anything you say may be used against you in court.”

“I understand.” Kunimi’s voice is cracked, eyes red. 

“You are held accountable for abetting a criminal, and now you’ve an added charge - jailbreak. We would like to know your reasons.”

“I’m sure you do already, Vice-Captain,” Kunimi says, more relaxed. Happier. “Kindaichi, my best friend, had been kidnapped by the criminal. I was coerced into doing what they wanted.”

“And that included murder?”

“I didn’t murder anyone.” He speaks slowly, steadily. “I had to keep an eye on Iwaizumi-san as well as his interactions with the other officers. I was to report his activities.”

“Really now,” Matsukawa says.

“Yes,” Kunimi nods.

“What else did the criminal ask you to do?”

“He wanted me to be the scapegoat while retrieving the case file of the SJ-9 incident from Iwaizumi-san’s room,” Kunimi says. “I had to dump the case file somewhere where the police could find it.”

“So you were the fall guy.”

“Yes.”

“Were you told to break out of jail as well?”

“He told me he was going to kill Kindaichi,” Kunimi says. “I had to escape.”

  
“What good would that have done? If he wanted to kill Kindaichi-san, he would have already done so.”

“I…” Kunimi swallows uncomfortably. He looks away. “I needed...I couldn’t sit still.”

“You wounded a fellow officer. That is going into your charges.”

“Yes, I understand,” Kunimi says. 

“Were you also the one who stabbed me?”

Kunimi looks uncomfortable.

“Answer the question, Kunimi.”

“Yes. I did. The real murderer called you to the department store and I was the one who wielded the knife. I’m sorry.”

“You stabbed me then escaped through the car park?”

“Yes. I washed the weapon and my hands of your blood as well,” Kunimi says. “The weapon was stolen from the Mizoguchi Bookstore.” It was the bookstore theft that Kindaichi had been investigating. So that was the murderer’s handiwork as well. “I disposed of it in a trash bin just outside Yasaishimaya department store.”

“On to the more important topic,” Matsukawa says. “What do you know about the person who held Kindaichi-san captive?”

“He never spoke to me directly. Only through a voice changer,” Kunimi says. 

“You didn’t know who he was?”

“No, I didn’t,” Kunimi says. “I only met up with him once, but he was wearing a mask. With the Brown character on it. Some beanie too. Just black in general. I couldn’t see his face. But he was taller than I am, and something about him just felt familiar.”

Naturally. Oikawa and Kunimi had been in the same volleyball club in high school, according to Matsukawa’s research. 

  
“Why did you agree to meet him?”

“He sent me a picture of Kindaichi,” Kunimi says. “I...I knew he wasn’t joking.”

“What happened then?”

“He held me at gunpoint,” Kunimi says. “It was so unexpected. I hadn’t any time to even draw my own gun.”

“He carried a gun?” 

“Yes. I don’t know where he got it from. It was just in his hands,” Kunimi says. “I think it was some sort of lighter or something.”

“Lighter?” 

“The kind where you burn butane fuel,” Kunimi says. 

“I know what a lighter is,” Matsukawa says sharply. He notices Kunimi’s flinch and sighs again. “So you say that somehow, this lighter transformed into a gun? It musn’t have been very big, or a very powerful gun, in any case.”

“It didn’t cross my mind to think about that,” Kunimi says regretfully. Matsukawa’s fingers curl into fists. It must have been the same gun that had taken Takahiro’s life. 

“He knocked me out,” Kunimi continues, shrugging.

“I see. He must have planted the devices during that time.”

“Devices?” Kunimi sounds confused. Could it be that he does not know…?

“There was a recording device and a tracking device in your jacket including the microphone for you to speak to him,” Matsukawa says. “He was tracking your movements as well.”

Kunimi bites his lip. “I see.”

“Never mind that now,” Matsukawa says. “You know how to operate the microphone, don’t you? As well as the receiver?”

“Yes,” Kunimi nods. “Do you need help in that regard?”

“Whatever you can offer. If you do this for us, I’ll let you see Kindaichi again,” Matsukawa says. 

Kunimi agrees immediately, eyes bright. Matsukawa hates himself for hating it. 


	9. Chapter 8

How long has he been here? Is it day? Or is it night? So far, Oikawa hasn’t done anything more than feeding him, kissing his face, his neck, his chest, and leaving him alone in this - what he assumes to be - a storage room. There are, apparently, some boxes to his right that he hadn’t noticed before, containing volleyball equipment. That was before he was blindfolded, in any case.

Oikawa talked about taking him away. Probably smuggle themselves over to another country. Oikawa probably has his ways. Before that happens, Iwaizumi would have to either escape, which appears impossible, considering how tightly he is tied down - or he would have to be rescued, and that would mean having to get information out to Matsukawa and the others.

Is there any possible way? Iwaizumi racks his brain. Is there any way for information here to get out to someone on the outside? 

If only he had some sort of voice transmitter or something. Like his cell phone, something that Oikawa most definitely threw away. Not like he had switched the GPS on anyway. 

Then, Iwaizumi remembers his jacket. The Aoba Johsai jacket still lying by his feet. If Oikawa had rigged Kunimi’s jacket, could he have rigged Iwaizumi’s too? And what were the chances that the transmitter for this particular voice recording device was in Matsukawa and company’s hands? What if Oikawa had already taken the devices out for fear of being tracked?

The chances were very slim. Iwaizumi estimates that if he were to put a number to it, it would be 0.0001%, or even less, but there is still a chance nonetheless. The walls are not thin - he knows that because he can always hear Oikawa’s approach about half a minute before the door actually opens, and he can hear the vehicles roaring outside sometimes. Is he near a busy road? 

Iwaizumi tries to use his bare feet to feeling around the jacket. Is this device even big enough for him to feel it? 

He feels something hard between his toes. For a moment, Iwaizumi thought that he had hit the jackpot, then elation gives way to frustration when he realises that it is the zipper. Continuing to feel the jacket, hoping to hit something. Anything.

Bingo. Something small, but noticeable, buried somewhere in between the layers of fabric of the jacket. Could it be the recording device? Is it even turned on? 

Using a free foot, Iwaizumi kicks the jacket, the article of clothing soaring in an arc as it lands on his thighs. The familiar material of the jacket gives him a sort of comfort. He’s got to be quiet, in case Oikawa hears him.

“Oh God, please let this work…” Iwaizumi mumbles. “Matsukawa, Hanamaki, if you’re there, I’m somewhere near a busy road. A lot of vehicles. Some storage room. With sports equipment. Specifically volleyball equipment. I’m guessing it’s a storeroom of some sort near some sports complex. Or maybe a garage? I’m not sure.”

The lack of response sucks hope like a vacuum cleaner from Iwaizumi’s soul. God, will this really work? What if he’s just being too desperate to consider how stupid this all sounds. Oikawa is so thorough. There’s no way he would miss a recording device in Iwaizumi’s jacket. 

“So uh, if you’re hearing this, thanks for trying to save your useless Captain,” Iwaizumi says in resignation. “You know, I should probably get demoted for this. Oikawa intends to leave in a couple of days. I’m not sure where he’s intending on taking me, but I think he’ll just undertake illegal human smuggling. Secure all the ports and the airport if it comes to that.” 

“Iwa-chan!” 

The door suddenly bursts open. Iwaizumi snaps his mouth shut. Crap. Did Oikawa hear him? What the hell? Why couldn’t Iwaizumi hear his footsteps? Was he too engrossed in this faint, glimmer of hope?

“Who were you talking too?” Oikawa asks, suspicion dripping from his tone. 

“No one. Myself,” Iwaizumi manages out, keeping his voice level. “You know, you lock me up here with no one to talk to but myself. And you. I’m currently deprived of human interaction.”

“The only human you need to interact with is me,” Oikawa says, a note of finality in his voice that sends shivers down Iwaizumi’s spine. Whatever happened to the cute, innocent, volleyball-loving Oikawa Tooru? “Are you hungry, Iwa-chan?”

“No,” Iwaizumi says. “But the ropes kind of hurt. Do you mind if you-” 

“I can’t,” Oikawa says. Iwaizumi can almost see the pout on his face, the sadness in his eyes. “Not while you still reject my love for you, Iwa-chan.”

“Why!” Iwaizumi shouts. He cannot see Oikawa’s reaction, but he imagines it to be a mix between annoyance and shock. “Why are you doing this, Oikawa? You don’t tie up someone you love! You don’t prevent me from speaking with my friends! We’re boyfriends! Isn’t that good enough for you?”

“Iwa-chan.”

When did Oikawa move so close? Iwaizumi can feel body heat against his chest, a warm hand on his cheek. The scent of vanilla that Iwaizumi loves so much suddenly gets that much stronger. 

Oikawa kisses him, tongue licking at his lips, forcing itself into his mouth. Iwaizumi lets out a choked noise. He adamantly refuses to play Oikawa’s game and keeps himself stock still, eyes squeezed shut. He has never been so repulsed by someone before…

Or that’s what he likes to think.

Maybe, a small, tiny part of him still thinks that the old Oikawa Tooru is still in there. Hiding under layers of murderous intent and possessive desire. The Oikawa Tooru he spent days catching bugs with, the Oikawa Tooru that sat with him and ate popsicles after school, the Oikawa Tooru that Iwaizumi Hajime had fallen in love with.

“See,” Oikawa says, after a few seconds, pulling away from Iwaizumi. The weight on his legs is gone. “You still reject me, Iwa-chan. I cannot untie you until you irrevocably love only me.”

“I do love only you!” Iwaizumi says. He can hear the pathetic desperation in his voice and curses himself for it. “Tooru!”

“You may say that, but actions speak louder than words, Iwa-chan.”

The door closes, and Iwaizumi knows that he is, once again, alone.

*

_ “Oikawa. Can I come in?” _

_ No response. Iwaizumi slowly pushes the door open, wondering if OIkawa is simply asleep. The room is dark and smelling distinctly of Oikawa. Unwashed clothes litter the floor as well as several cellophane wrappers. The afternoon sun is filtered by the glitzy curtains Oikawa insisted on having, casting pink shadows on the figure curled up in his futon in the middle of the room.  _

_ Iwaizumi shuts the door behind him, careful not to wake Oikawa up. He settles down beside his sleeping friend whose back is turned to him, chest rising and falling steadily. Tear tracks on his cheek glisten in the glow of the sun. _

_ Iwaizumi heard that Oikawa is nursing a twisted ankle and a bad knee, but the damage of that last match was not just physical, it seems.  _

_ Iwaizumi lays a hand on Oikawa’s cheek. Was Oikawa ever this pretty?  _

_ Is it weird to be thinking such things about your best friend? _

_ Is it weird to kiss your best friend’s forehead? Or to watch them while they sleep? Or to wish that no harm would ever befall them again? Iwaizumi isn’t sure, but he stays in Oikawa’s room, doing his homework and glancing over at his slumbering form every once in a while, a funny flip of his stomach every time he hears his name uttered from Oikawa’s lips.  _

*

“I see,” Matsukawa mumbles to himself. A busy street. Volleyball equipment. Oikawa is likely planning to stow away on some ship - an airplane is rather impractical, considering that he would be bringing Iwaizumi with him.

How many days do they have? Matsukawa has no idea.

“It was a similar descripti-”

“Did I ask for your opinion?”

Kunimi tenses and makes himself smaller. Matsukawa must acknowledge it, however, that Iwaizumi’s description of his captive location is similar to that of Kindaichi’s, supposing that Iwaizumi hadn’t been blindfolded for some time. Perhaps Oikawa has kept them in the same location? Would that have been too obvious?

“Guard, take Kunimi-san to the hospital,” Matsukawa raises a hand in gesture. 

Kunimi gladly goes along, if only he can be free from the demonic aura surrounding Matsukawa right now, but more importantly, he can see Kindaichi again, alive and well. 

*

_ “Your favourite, Tooru.” _

_ Iwaizumi holds out the packet of milk bread in front of Oikawa, as if trying to tame a small animal, even though Oikawa is anything but small. Oikawa stares at it for the longest time as if in a trance, before accepting it and taking large bites out of it.  _

_ Iwaizumi eats his own melon bread, not being especially fond of milk bread. They eat in silence. Iwaizumi is worried, to say the least. Oikawa has not been himself lately and it has been a week. Whenever Iwaizumi visits, Oikawa is either sleeping or requests that he be turned away, which his other regretfully informs him. Needless to say, times like these are rare. _

_ “So, Oikawa, everyone’s worried about you,” Iwaizumi says between bites of his melon bread. “The teachers, our classmates, the team.”  _ Including myself,  _ he thinks. “They want to know when their star setter’s going to be back.” _

_ Oikawa doesn’t reply. He focuses on chewing on his bread, eyes casting a blank gaze on the ground. _

_ “So, anyway,” Iwaizumi says, attempting to change the subject, “a lot happened in school this past week. Assignments, which I’ve got more of yours in my bag by the way. We have to start registering for the entrance exams too.” _

_ Oikawa remains silent, but instead of staring at the floor, he’s decided to place his full attention on Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi tries not to be disturbed by the lack of emotion in those brown eyes. It is as if he’s looking into a lifeless doll that has his best friend’s soul ripped from it, leaving nothing but a shell.  _

_ Iwaizumi finishes his bread. “Which university do you want to go to, Oikawa? I’m thinking maybe I’d study down at Nekoma. They’ve got a good police academy. And you can minor in, like, law or something. I’m not sure I’ll actually do it, but it sounds better than Seijoh’s police academy anyways.” _

_ He chuckles for a moment, but is cut off sharply when Oikawa suddenly makes a grab for his shirt, slim fingers curling in the fabric. _

_ “Iwa-chan...are you going to leave me?”  _

_ Iwaizumi may be mistaken, but the moment he returns Oikawa’s gaze, he is overwhelmed by the pure sadness in those eyes. It is only a slight improvement from the lack of feeling, but seeing such sorrow in someone does not make the situation any better. _

_ “I’m...I’m not going to leave you, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says. His Adam’s apple bobs. Oikawa is suddenly too close, his scent surrounds Iwaizumi, his face merely inches apart. “I’m just going for a few years and I’ll be coming back.” _

_ Oikawa looks unconvinced, but eventually, he asks quietly, “Promise?” _

_ Iwaizumi smiles now, because things seem to be looking up. “Promise. I’ll be back before you know it.” _

_ He has unexplainable flutters in his stomach when Oikawa smiles a small smile for the first time in a week.  _

*

This must be the place. The only place that fits the description. Oikawa isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t have put Kindaichi and Iwaizumi in the same place, even if Kindaichi had his sight taken away from him. 

Matsukawa stands outside the gates of Aoba Johsai high school. Kindaichi had very likely been held captive at the Seijoh Sports Complex, the only place in Seijoh that hosts abseiling, rock climbing and those high elements and water sports. If that’s the case, then considering where Oikawa has access to, the only other place that has he can possibly be is here, at Aoba Johsai High School. A place that holds significance to both Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

Matsukawa feels around for his pistol, ensuring that it is with him, still in the holster on his belt. He has seen firsthand the speed at which Oikawa can draw and fire his gun, and to be honest, it no longer scares him, not when Matsukawa’s heart burns with a passion. A passion to kill the one who murdered Takahiro. 

He will avenge Hanamaki Takahiro on this day. He didn’t tell anybody and didn’t bring a team. A tiny part of him reprimands, saying that he should have. It is safer that way. But Matsukawa has lost his abundance of patience two days ago. He wants to kill. And he wants to kill now.

At this time, at around eleven at night, there is no one in the school, not even straggling students or teachers. It is dark as hell and filled with the chirps of nocturnal animals. Upon introducing himself as a police officer, the nighttime guard doesn’t think twice before letting him in. 

If he is where Matsukawa thinks he is...Matsukawa ventures over to the indoor sports hall. Upon turning the corner to the building, he hears movement. Matsukawa turns around, expecting to see Oikawa, but nothing. He grits his teeth, drawing his pistol from its holster, and continues moving.

There are a couple of warehouses near the indoor sports hall - some of them must be abandoned - especially those furthest away from the indoor sports hall. They look the most run-down, their paint having been stripped to the point where the bricks can be seen. For some, the doors hang by a single hinge. The school should really pour more money into maintaining such buildings, or at least tear them down.

It is interesting to note that the supposedly run-down warehouses are nearest the school fence separating the school compound from a very busy road that leads into the central financial district. So that must be where Iwaizumi must have heard the cars from. If Matsukawa guesses right…

He makes sure to keep as close to the wall as possible, gun still in hand as he makes his way to the warehouse nearest the road. He takes a deep breath, fingers tightening around the grip and keeping a finger on the trigger. He removes the safety, and then kicks the door down as hard as he can.

The door comes off from its hinges, slamming harshly to the ground. Matsukawa sees nothing apart from some janitors’ tools and a ball cart for basketballs. Some floorball equipment. And, what is most striking is the featureless green door in the furthest part of the room. 

Matsukawa strides over, internally cursing that the only light he has is the sliver of moonbeam shining through the open door. If Oikawa is hiding anywhere here…

Matsukawa tries the knob. It doesn’t open. The door appears very rusty. Perhaps he can swing it off its hinges as well. He tries slamming his whole weight against it. 

  
Then, he hears a thudding noise. The sound of footsteps, and Matsukawa manages to duck when the first bullet flies through the wall, missing his head by inches. Matsukawa aims his gun at the door. Could Oikawa tell where he is? Even through the closed door? Does he have some X-ray vision or something?

“You’re the police, aren’t you?” Oikawa’s voice rings out from behind the door. 

Matsukawa opts not to answer. 

“You probably came alone, thirsty for revenge,” Oikawa continues. “Isn’t that right, Matsukawa Issei-san?”

Matsukawa bites his cheek to keep from replying. He focuses on holding his gun steady. 

  
“I can’t let you live, Matsukawa-san,” Oikawa continues. “You can join your lover in death.”

Another shot is fired through the door, the bullet emerging from splintered wood, flying straight at Matsukawa’s head. Matsukawa barely dodges that one as well, the bullet embedding itself in the opposite wall. 

Another bullet is fired, and this time, it grazes Matsukawa’s cheek, drawing blood which trickles down his face. He swipes at the wound, barely even feeling the sting. Matsukawa fires one round, straight through the door, aiming low.

Then, he hears a sharp scream of pain. A familiar voice, a voice that Matsukawa cannot bring himself to remember. It doesn’t matter who he hit. It was a useless shot, as long as it didn’t hit Oikawa. He does hear Oikawa’s shout next, words incomprehensible in Matsukawa’s ears. Oikawa fires another shot, and this one, Matsukawa dodges easily. He is starting to see a pattern now. Looking at the bullet holes in the door, Oikawa is shooting the bullets in a row - the height of Matsukawa’s head. 

Which means that Oikawa cannot actually see him from behind that door and was just shooting blindly the whole time. 

The door swings open and Matsukawa fires. Oikawa makes no move to avoid getting hit. Instead, he takes the bullet to the chest, blood erupting from the wound and fires off his own shot, straight at Matsukawa. 

“You…” Oikawa snarls breathlessly. “You hurt...Iwa-chan…” 

Behind him, Iwaizumi is bound to a chair, head thrown back, mouth open in agonized gasps. There is a bullet wound in his leg, leaking blood that flows like a river. 

Honestly, Matsukawa doesn’t care. 

He fires another bullet, this time aiming for the man behind Oikawa. This catches Oikawa off guard, who throws out an arm, stopping the bullet with his bone. Blood dribbles from the wound, plugged by the bullet. Oikawa’s arm falls limp. Even if it hadn’t killed him, Oikawa’s radius must be shattered. Oikawa coughs blood and falls to a knee. The two bullet wounds must be taking a toll on him. 

Matsukawa makes to stride over to the man behind Oikawa, unable to defend himself, anguished from the bullet that tore through his leg. Oikawa slips in his attempt to rise, but falls, letting out a pained cry, lighter-gun still clutched in his hand.

Matsukawa will do it. He will inflict the same pain on Oikawa as Oikawa did him. An image of Takahiro flashes into his mind. He will, and can do it. Finally, Takahiro will be avenged. Matsukawa presses the barrel of the gun against the man’s head, finger on the trigger.

Oikawa’s eyes are wide and filled with terror. 

He raises his gun, aiming at Matsukawa, but it is too late.


	10. Epilogue

Iwaizumi awakens, a severe, throbbing pain in his leg. The person sitting by his bedside is none other than Yahaba Shigeru, playing a game on his phone.

He tries to mumble Yahaba’s name, but no sound comes out. It is only then that he realises that his mouth and nose are covered with an oxygen mask. Where is he?

“Glad to see you’re awake, Cap,” Yahaba says, pausing his game and slipping his phone back into his pocket. “So, uh. I’m supposed to update you on what’s happened, and take your statements or something.”

Iwaizumi blinks. Update him...on what’s happened. What  _ did  _ happen? He isn’t sure. He tries to think back to that night, when he heard gunshots, the arrow of pain lancing through his leg. A stray bullet must have hit him or something. There was a shootout, and the chill of a gun’s barrel flush against his temple. Lord, he thought he was going to die right there and then. It hadn’t been Oikawa - the vanilla scent was absent, but then again, it could have been masked by the strong smell of blood. Or maybe Oikawa had been attempting one of those lovers’ suicides thing. 

He shudders. He tries to move an arm, but his body won’t obey him. 

“Uh, so, I’ll just tell it to you straight. Your leg wound’s bad - almost infected, if we were any later. You’d probably need crutches for a couple of months. You’ve been out for about three days. If it hadn’t been for the security guard, I didn’t think we would have gotten there in time.

“Ushijima-san’s come down from the Shiratorizawa Headquarters to do some kind of damage control. You’re invited to Hanamaki-san’s funeral next week, if you can make it, and Matsukawa-san and Kunimi are in the detention centre. Detained, that is. Kyoutani’s in the next room with Kindaichi. Both are recovering well.”

Iwaizumi continues to peer up at him questioningly. Yahaba seems to notice the unanswered inquiry. 

  
“Oikawa Tooru...is on death row,” Yahaba says. “But you can still visit him if you want. At least, until his execution.”

Oikawa on death row. The smiling Oikawa Tooru, the Oikawa Tooru he had loved, and possibly still love, even with the atrocities that he had committed. Oikawa, Oikawa, Oikawa…

“Well, I’m not exactly busy right now, but you are, Cap,” Yahaba says. “Ushjima-san wants to talk to you as soon as possible. When you’re ready to face him.”

Iwaizumi sighs inwardly. What a way to cheer up someone who’s just got shot. Ushijima is definitely not just here for a courtesy call. Iwaizumi prepares himself for demotion. The fate of his department is bleak. With the Captain out of commission and delegated exclusively to paperwork (which Iwaizumi is not looking forward to, assuming he can keep his title of Captain), their Vice-Captain and another officer detained, two other officers currently in the hospital and one of them dead-

Wait, dead?

Hanamaki’s funeral is next week. 

Hanamaki is dead.

The weight of the information slams into him like a freight train. Hanamaki is dead. No. Nononononono! Iwaizumi’s frantic eyes dart to Yahaba, but he cannot communicate his concerns. 

“I...I’ll be heading out now, Cap,” Yahaba says. “I’ve got to go check up on Kyoutani and Kindaichi. Good luck on your recovery.”

Iwaizumi turns his gaze back up to the ceiling. Yahaba leaves the room, giving Iwaizumi all the peace and quiet he doesn’t want but needs.

*

“Who are you?” 

Needless to say, Matsukawa is intrigued. The man sitting in front of him is dressed in a black-and-white striped shirt and jeans, long brown coat in his arms. He has black hair tied into a short ponytail. 

“A messenger of justice,” the man says, smiling. “Matsukawa Issei, right? I heard a lot about you?”

“What do you want with me?”

“Now, now, don’t be so hasty,” the man says. That smile is creepy. “Do you think Hanamaki Takahiro’s death is justified?”

Matsukawa slams his hands against the ledge. He hisses in pain, the bullet wound that Yahaba had given him still on the road to recovery. He draws the attention of the guard who holds him back, shoving him back roughly into his chair.

“How the fuck do you know that name? Answer me!”

“Former Vice-Cap! Calm down!” the guard roars.

“Tell me! How did you know!”

“All in due time, former Vice-Captain of the 14th department,” the man says. “My name is Ennoshita Chikara, and I want to enlist your help in bringing true justice back into this wretched land.”

“True justice?”

“Hanamaki Takahiro’s death was not justified at all,” Ennoshita says. “It is because of this stupid police system that he died at all. The incompetent police system that could not catch one criminal.”   
  


“You talk big, Ennoshita-san,” Matsukawa says. This man...he gives off an air of danger. Danger, but a strong and unyielding resilience. “Considering that you know you’re talking to a former police officer.”

“But you must admit it,” Ennoshita says, leaning forward, “that it was because of this police force that is unable to capture Oikawa Tooru that led to Hanamaki Takahiro’s death. If you had collared Oikawa Tooru earlier, then Hanamaki Takahiro would not have died.”

Matsukawa remains silent. 

“Your eyes. The passion I see in them is just what I need to revolutionise this world, Matsukawa-san,” Ennoshita says, now leaning back against the folding chair. It creaks. “To bring about true justice to those who deserve it. Don’t you want to, Matsukawa-san? Make sure there are no more victims like yourself and Hanamaki-san?”

“I…”

“What if I told you that I’d give you a chance to exact your revenge on Oikawa Tooru with your own hands?”

“My own...hands…” Matsukawa stares down at the ledge. “Oikawa...Tooru.” 

Ennoshita is smiling. Matsukawa looks up. 

“Well. What must I do, Ennoshita-san?”

*

The funeral is over quickly, and thankfully, because of his leg wound, Iwaizumi hadn’t needed to give a eulogy. There wasn’t a large crowd - just some of Hanamaki’s family members and colleagues - Iwaizumi, Kyoutani and Yahaba. 

When Iwaizumi reaches home with Yahaba’s help, his junior promising to pick him up in the morning for work. Iwaizumi smiles and tells him that he’s grateful for the help, and Yahaba leaves. Perhaps he’d be the next Captain, if Iwaizumi gets fired.

Suddenly, his landline buzzes. Iwaizumi groans. There is only one person he knows that would call someone else’s landline. What perfect timing, to boot. Slowly, with his crutches, Iwaizumi hobbles over to the phone. Damn it, why couldn’t he put the phone nearer a seat or something?

“Hello? Iwaizumi Hajime speaking.”

“Iwaizumi-san. Are you well?” 

Iwaizumi grimaces. “I’ve been discharged. No strenuous activity.”

“In that case, I will come over.”

Iwaizumi feels a migraine coming on. “S-Sure. Just text me when you reach.” His heart is pounding. What exactly does the head of police have to speak to him about?

The knocking on the door comes sooner than expected. Iwaizumi sighs. Of course. Ushijima would never use his phone if he didn’t have to. Groaning inwardly, Iwaizumi hobbles over to the door and pulls it open. Ushijima is accompanied by his Vice-Captain, a brown-haired, lanky individual named Shirabu Kenjirou. Personally, Iwaizumi and Shirabu have never really spoken.

“Please come in,” Iwaizumi says, and moves himself slowly, but surely, to the dining table. There are only two seats, so Shirabu stands, hands behind his back. Iwaizumi may be mistaken, but Shirabu seems to be glaring at him. 

“Iwaizumi-san,” Ushijima says. “I think congratulations is in order.”

Iwaizumi stares at him. Long and hard. Shirabu clears his throat, “The Leading Officer just commended you. You should express your gratitude.”

Iwaizumi coughs. “Uh...thanks.” It does not seem to satisfy Shirabu, but Iwaizumi could care less. “What for, Ushijima-san?”

“Your department fared better than Karasuno’s, in more ways than one,” Ushijima says. Karasuno? Which department? Did they have a similar incident? “You lost fewer officers.”

Oh. Iwaizumi looks down. He supposes that  _ is  _ a good thing. But Hanamaki…

“With that out of the way” -  _ As if praising me is a chore,  _ Iwaizumi thinks - “I will move on to a more important topic.”

“A more important topic?”

  
“There has been a jailbreak at Karasuno’s,” Ushijima says, “with fewer casualties than their previous incident. So far, this incident has been kept under wraps, but we believe that the criminal may have escaped here, to the Seijoh region.”

“So they smuggled themselves across the border.”

“Yes,” Ushijima says. “We hope to apprehend this dangerous individual as soon as possible, but we don’t want to create pandemonium. We are hoping that you would oversee this task of capturing this individual.”

“I see,” Iwaizumi nods. 

“For now, you may continue with your Captain duties,” Ushijima says. “I hope to hear good things from you in the future. I will update you on the status of this jailbreak case as soon as I receive some news. For now, work hard, and you will be rewarded.” Ushijima stands and strides towards the door.

“Wait!”

Ushijima turns around. Shirabu huffs, “Don’t you know it’s ru-” He is interrupted with a simple gesture from Ushijima. 

“What is it, Iwaizumi-san?”

“Ushijima-san, do you know anything about the Era of Mistrust?”

Ushijima’s eyes narrow. Shirabu looks like he is about to say something, mouth opening and closing, but no sound comes out. 

“The Era of Mistrust,” Ushijima says slowly. “I have no idea what you are talking about. Come, Shirabu. We must leave.”

Iwaizumi watches in silence as they disappear behind the door, shutting it with a click. Iwaizumi locks the door, then heads to bed and lies down, not in the mood to do anything for the rest of the day. 

Not even Ushijima is willing to admit to the black cloud hanging over the Haikyuu Police Force.

*

Sirens blare and searchlights come on almost immediately. Shouting and yelling can be heard from within the prison walls. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

The man who approaches Oikawa is of lean build, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hazel coat. He extends a hand to Oikawa, presumably for a handshake, totally unperturbed by the sirens and the lights and the shouting. 

“A man devoted to justice,” the man answers. Oikawa squints. He can’t read the guy, for some odd reason. Can’t tell what he is thinking, and it annoys Oikawa to no end.

“Name,” Oikawa hisses.

The man walks over, forcing Oikawa to press his back flush against the wall, the chains of his handcuffs clattering as they slide against the mossy tiles of the floor. The man unlocks the handcuffs binding Oikawa’s wrists and those restricting movement of his legs.

“You can call me Ennoshita,” the man says, twirling what Oikawa presumes to be the janitor’s keys in his fingers. Oikawa rubs at the marks on his wrists. 

“I’m a serial killer on death row,” Oikawa says. “What the hell do you want with me? I don’t care about your justice at all!”

“Well then, what about your beloved Iwa-chan?” Ennoshita says, smiling. “What if I told you that you can see him again?”

Oikawa stares at him, a grin immediately breaking out across his face. It wasn’t the kind of happy grin, the upturn of the lips and showing the whites of teeth to express one’s elation. Rather, it was a disturbing smile - one that pulls the lips back to bare fangs. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Ennoshita says. He holds a hand to Oikawa once again, and presses something between his fingers. Oikawa glances down at it. The lighter-gun he had been using, along with a fresh magazine of bullets. 

“There’s more where that came from,” Ennoshita says. “Now, prove your conviction by surviving this escape.” The guards’ shouting is getting nearer and nearer. 

“If it’s to see Iwa-chan again, I’ll do anything,” Oikawa says. Ennoshita smirks. 

It is because Oikawa truly means what he says, with all the determination and resolution lying behind those words. 


End file.
